


Ellema

by helena_s_renn, Helenas_bitch, orphan_account



Series: Teh Winchesters [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Car Sex, Domestic, F/M, First Time, Het, M/M, Multi, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Sibling Incest, Teenage Winchesters, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 106,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenas_bitch/pseuds/Helenas_bitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15-year-old Sam personifies teenage angst after Dean ended their relationship. Coming down with chicken pox doesn't exactly improve his mood. When Dean gets kicked out for the night by John, he decides to get laid. He considers himself lucky to pull Ellema, but <i>SHE</i> is not quite what Dean expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When John entered their current dingy apartment, he came home to the same scene he'd witnessed for the past five days. Ever since they'd brought Sam home from that squat where he'd been hiding out in Flagstaff, the youngest Winchester had been brooding, his face pulled into an eternal scowl, completely ignoring Dean and picking fights with John.

Likewise, after the initial anxiety over what might have happened to his little brother, Dean had turned into an uppity snot toward Sam. He went out to get laid and came home boasting about his success every night. John felt tempted to wipe the cocky smirk off his eldest's face more than once, but he was wise enough to recognize that this would only serve to make things worse.

Whatever was going on between his boys, however much they appeared to hate each other, John knew that they'd stonewall him if he asked. Telling John about Sam was the one order Dean would not obey, regardless of the punishment he was threatened with. No, the facade didn't have even the smallest crack, and in the end, John should be proud of his sons: he was, after all, the one who'd taught them everything about the need for secrecy. Now his instructions had turned against him, but he was sure they'd work it out. They always had, and they'd have to in the future. There were only the three of them, and both Sam and Dean _knew_ that they couldn't afford to turn against each other. It might take some time for Sam to get over his snit, but John didn't doubt that it would happen, eventually.

Until then, they'd have to live with the more than chilly atmosphere in their temporary home in Colorado Springs. Since John didn't expect their current hunt to last longer than a few weeks, Sam wasn't enrolled in school, which did nothing to improve his mood. At least, the boys had separate rooms for now, something John congratulated himself on every day, where they spent most of their time – except when Dean was out on a bar crawl. 

So he wasn't surprised when he found Dean cleaning guns at the kitchen table with a blank expression on his face. Sam's expression, by contrast, was murderous, but when John entered, his youngest's face turned into a sickeningly sweet mask. 

"Hi, Dad," Sam said in a level voice, but John felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. The friendliness was too obvious. Sam giving someone a friendly pat on the back these days usually meant he was looking for the best spot to stick his knife in.

"Sam," John replied noncommittally, "Dean."

Dean grunted something in reply without looking up, which was fine with John. He, too, didn't like being disturbed while concentrating on weapon maintenance, where the slightest mistake could cost a life.

Sam shrugged and continued scratching his elbow. John frowned. He'd seen Sam scratching himself earlier today, and it didn't seem... right.

On cue, Dean looked up and offered, "If you got us infested with that mutt's fleas, I'mma end you!"

John had to suppress a smile. The 'mutt' had been a dog Sam had found god-knows-where in Flagstaff. They'd had issues with fleas – fleas, bed bugs, lice, you name it, they'd had it – before, but this was so obviously Dean trying to get a rise out of his sibling that it made John not only smile but also sigh when Sam's sole reaction was to scratch harder.

"Stop that." Not sure whether to be more concerned or more annoyed, John grabbed Sam's hand. The second he noticed the heat emanating from his son, he was concerned, though. Sam pulled his hand free and made to leave, but John caught him and put his hand on his youngest's forehead. Pushing the floppy hair back to check the temperature, he noticed the spots and almost laughed out loud with relief.

John was by far not versed in medicine other than field surgery, but even he couldn't misinterpret the obvious signs of chicken pox. Dean had come down with it at the age of two, and John remembered Mary's infinite patience in caring for the sick and whiny child. Back then, little Dean had spent most of the time sleeping. John had a feeling that he might not get away that easily with Sam.

"Time for bed," John announced in a voice that didn't allow contradiction. To his surprise, Sam only muttered something under his breath that John was glad not to catch, and padded over to his bedroom. 

When John followed him a few minutes later, Sam was under the covers, shivering with fever, and violently scratching at his arms. Shaking his head, John went to his room and fetched two pairs of handcuffs, which he unceremoniously attached to the boy's wrists and then to the bedposts.

"To help you stop scratching," he announced to no one in particular. Sam looked ready to kill, but he was effectively immobilized, and secretly John doubted that he had the strength to do anything that required more energy than, say, sitting up in bed.

The hatred in Sam's hazel eyes intensified when John pulled out a thermometer and held it before his mouth. Aware that this wasn't going to work, John sighed.

"You can either open your mouth or we'll do this the old-fashioned way where this," he nodded at the thermometer, "goes in your ass. Your choice, mister, and you have exactly three seconds to make it."

Sam folded.

While he took Sam's temperature, John didn't miss Dean lingering in the doorway. Sam had a 102, which was about what John had expected, and he made him swallow a couple of Tylenol tablets, then ruffled his hair – which earned him another scowl – and closed the door behind him.

"What?" he addressed Dean less than a second later. "He has chicken pox. Unless you're volunteering for babysitting duty, isn't this your usual time for hitting the bars for girls?" Tired of the two of them and not exactly happy to be stuck watching over a sick teenager, John couldn't keep the acid out of his voice. Dean wasn't really much of a help here.

"Go and have fun while I stick it out with your brother."

Dean gave him a speculative look, and finally got the message that he wasn't welcome. A few seconds later, John heard the Impala's roar and he was alone with Sam.

* * *

The place was a waste. The whole town was a waste. SHE'd been in the bar, checking out customers, but so far nothing appealing had surfaced. About to leave the pathetic patrons to their own devices, SHE was ready to call it a night when HER interest suddenly perked up. He was young, no more than twenty, but he looked the most promising SHE'd seen in weeks.

Narrowing HER eyes, SHE watched him approach the counter. The way he threw back his head when he laughed at the barkeep, then frowned as he reached for the ID he was being prompted for, and how his face fell when the – obviously fake – ID wasn't convincing enough for the shot of whiskey he'd asked for, made HER slide from HER stool at the other side of the bar. Ordering a double, SHE pushed it in front of him and smiled.

"I hate it when they do that," SHE said nonchalantly, then leaned closer, whispering, "I'm twenty-one and three weeks."

SHE looked at him and, close up, liked even more what SHE saw. Yes, this boy-man was perfect. "I'm Ellema. And you are...?"

* * *

The nerve on that kid. Weeks after his 'elopement' to Flagstaff, Sam was still spending ninety-nine percent of his waking hours sulking and pouting. Dean could barely believe the degree of his stubbornness, regardless of Sam's already established reputation for it. It was as if he'd settled on being pissed off for the rest of his life. At Dean, for ending their physical relationship, at Dad for the hunting lifestyle and constant moving and training, at both of them for coming after him and dragging him out of his home-away-from-it-all literally kicking and screaming. Since then, Sam had barely spoken ten words, never smiled, was generally listless, and as Dean had already mentioned, pissed. Hell, Sam wouldn't even tell him about his night with Nicole, and what young guy didn't want to brag about losing his virginity? It wasn't normal. 

Today was no different. Dean got sick of the feeling of Sam's hatred rolling off him in waves, and prickles whenever his brother's eyes bored into the back of his head. After finding nothing of interest on TV, he finally decided to clean their weapons and settled himself at the kitchen table, a small bottle of gun oil and some rags and the pieces of his dad's shotgun currently laid out in front of him. Sam had been more restless than usual all day, constantly shifting and scratching. About the time their dad stomped into their place, Dean had been blaming it on the mutt Sam had adopted – and which John had made him leave behind – in Arizona. He didn't wish it on Sam or anyone, but he supposed it could be lice – which they'd dealt with a half dozen times over the years, or Nicole could have given him crabs. Dean doubted that, though. The girl wasn't a slut whatever he insinuated and also she took care of her body. The possibility that Sam had hooked up with persons unknown on the road put him into a sort of dull rage Dean shunted aside, just like he always did, with the vice of the day. And in the meantime, he tried not to let it ruin his concentration. John would ream him a new one if he screwed up with the guns. Dean hadn't done anything so careless since he'd been eight or so – now wasn't a time to start.

Their dad noticed Sam's twitchy scritching right away, of course he did. A quick look later, he pronounced it was chicken pox and made Sam go to his room to lie down. A couple moments after that, there was obviously some butting of heads going on in Sam's room. Curiosity got the better of Dean. He sneaked to the doorway in time to hear John threaten Sam with taking his temperature rectally if he refused to cooperate. Dean couldn't help the stupid grin at the massive bitchface on his brother's mug, nor another surge of black jealousy at the thought of anyone else touching Sam's ass. He had to hold himself in check when their dad slapped Sam in handcuffs to keep him from scratching the red spots. 

John noticed him standing there, and summarily dismissed Dean from the room and the apartment. It was cool that Dad didn't forbid him from going out or try to enforce a curfew, but the trade-off that Dean took the sharp side of his tongue about his activities turned into a vicious cycle when Dean smirkingly elaborated on his conquests in retaliation, thus provoking more verbal digs from his father. Sam didn't bother commenting on the subject, but his glares said it all. 

Well, fuck them: Dad's noise and Sam's silence. Dean needed an outlet, one that got him out from heavy responsibility of the family business. If Dad was going to basically throw him out for the night, then Dean was happy to oblige. The alternative held no appeal. He drove to a different, more upscale bar than he'd been at every other night that week and strolled in, scanning the other customers for likely company. There might be classier chicks in this place; he was getting tired of damaged girls with daddy complexes and funny uncles in their pasts as his main fare. The irony of his past wasn't lost on him at all. 

Then the unthinkable happened, first time in at least two years: the bartender spotted Dean's fake ID for what it was. The man didn't throw him out immediately or call the cops, but being around a bunch of drunks wouldn't be any fun without a drop of alcohol in his system. Dean hunched glumly on his bar stool, about to leave when someone plunked a rocks glass with a healthy double shot down in front of him. 

A woman of indeterminate age slid onto the stool beside him, smiling. She was one of those females who might be sixteen, thirty-six, or anywhere in between. Exotic, too, glossy black hair, mocha skin and large, heavily-fringed, almond-shaped eyes. Dean smiled back. He considered himself an equal-opportunity hook-up, and the chance to take a break from the typical bleach-blond, tipsy barfly type reeled him in. 

"Thanks for the drink, sweetheart. Ellema. Nice name. I'm Dean." He turned his upper body to face her. She was fine, curvier than he usually went for, but something told him she'd be more amenable to him, for it. Full lips, smooth skin that looked like it would be velvet under his hands, there was just something about her. Dean definitely wanted to spend more time with her. Fully aware of her assessing him from head to toe, he took a swallow of his drink, tilting his head back to allow the woman to give her a chance to view his profile. Now that he was essentially single again, Dean used every asset he'd been given, without shame. 

"Twenty-one plus three weeks, huh?" Her speech had been slightly accented, slightly more formal-sounding, despite her words, than how people in Colorado tended to speak. Dean leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'm really nineteen, but don't tell him," he gestured at the bartender. "You're not from here... Where _are_ you from?" 

* * *

Nineteen? SHE'd thought he was very close to 21. He looked... no, older wasn't the right term, he was... _hardened._ When he leaned in, SHE examined his scent. He smelled of soap, nothing fancy, and the underlying weak note of male sweat and testosterone told HER that he was the most suitable man SHE'd met in weeks, if not months or years.

His body was warm enough for HER to feel it and SHE moved in a little, too. He had nice hands with strong fingers. A closer look revealed scars. Someone who worked with tools, then. And somebody who was used to observing, as confirmed by his question.

"My family have been living in the States for several generations," SHE said, HER voice an easy sing-songing purr. It was too early for HER to get serious about seducing him, but SHE would evaluate his reaction with all HER senses. "We are of Egyptian origin, though. Where are you from?"

SHE hadn't seen him before, and after witnessing the refusal of being served alcohol, SHE doubted that he'd visited this bar before. Also, he dressed in a different fashion, less showy, his clothes were cheap and worn to the point of being threadbare enough to rip from as much as a sharp look.

His body, though, SHE was convinced, would be worthy of showing. If everything went according to the plan that was forming in HER mind, SHE'd find out soon enough.

* * *

And so started the nightly ritual, the modern-day courtship dance that started with a look and, if successful, ended after a few hours and one or more rounds in bed. Or car. Or alleyway. Dean was used to adapting to whatever venue was available. 

Something told him this woman wouldn't be as easy as the type who usually threw themselves at him. Sure, she'd made the first move, but now it was like she was examining Dean, dark intelligent eyes weighing and measuring him. Just the idea gave him an extra inch already; he was filled by the weirdest nagging urge to prove himself worthy to her. Only his dad had ever evoked that feeling, and Dean shoved that thought violently down. 

He'd start by being attentive. "My family's from Kansas, that's where I was born. But most of my life's been on the road. We move all the time, don't put down roots. What about you – did your family settle here in Colorado?" There was a large percentage of Hispanic residents, he'd noticed, but he hadn't seen much in the way of other non-white nationalities. A few Asians, a few Arabic types, a few blacks. Dean wasn't sure where exactly Egyptians fit into that demographic and really it didn't matter. Ellema was a beautiful woman, any idiot could see that. She was dressed in expensive clothes, a skirt and blouse, probably silk, rather than the jeans and tank tops most younger women favored. And she smelled so damned good, something like warm bread and coffee and sweetness. Dean did love candy. 

Belatedly, he inquired, because as far as Dean knew, it would be what normal people would ask, "Are you in school? Working?" Then he tipped back his glass again, surprised to find his drink already gone after two more swallows. Ellema had been studying his hands, and Dean left them cupped around the glass, thumbs rubbing slowly along the rim. Again, he moved closer, drawn to the prospect of human contact, sex, and _her_.

* * *

HER eyes met his, and again SHE liked what SHE saw: widened pupils in irises of a deep green under long eyelashes, which SHE'd describe as 'girly' in anyone but him. A dusting of tiny freckles coated the fine skin of his face where it wasn't covered by short stubble. His lush and slightly parted lips made HER tongue tip flick out over HER own lips, and SHE enjoyed the small gasp he could barely hide.

"I'm passing through," SHE replied. "Business, but I have a place nearby." If he asked, SHE could spin him a story that would quickly bore him enough to change topic. 

HER eyes were again drawn to his hands, to the way he caressed the rim of his now empty glass and SHE smiled to HERself. He was clearly not a novice in the dance between men and women. 

Considering for a moment if SHE should suggest they leave, SHE decided against it. Dean was too delicious to hurry this. Instead, SHE turned toward the barkeep. A look at his back was enough to draw the man's attention. SHE reached for his hand and knew exactly when HER essence touched him. 

"I think that my _friend_ Dean would like another of those," SHE said in a honey-sweet voice, sharing a conspiratory look with Dean while the barkeep reached for the top shelf whiskey and filled both their glasses. The man hesitated for a second, then left the bottle on the bar as he turned to serve another patron.

"Now what shall we drink to?" SHE mused, making HER voice sound rich with promise. "To you and me? To tonight?"

* * *

"Business, huh? Sounds familiar. Always work to do." Dean didn't elaborate or ply more questions. His 'business' in this life was an off-limits topic to strangers, no matter how much he wanted to get to know them better.

For a second, somewhere between the near-tactile sensation of her eyes caressing his face and the splash of more expensive amber alcohol in his glass, Dean wondered exactly how she'd managed to put the whammy on the bartender. The man had already made him as underage, yet not only did he pour, but left the bottle, some brand of aged mellow spirits that had to cost what Dean made hustling on a good night. Then he no longer cared about the glazed, slightly confused expression on the barkeep's face. The woman – Ellema – turned to him as well, the side of her breast brushing his arm. Dean was more of an 'ass man', truth be told, and he always said, about breasts, that more than a handful was a waste, which made Sam roll his eyes in disgust. Forget that little punk! – that was what he was here for, after all.

Dean had been wrong: somehow this chick's tits were the epitome of ripe fertility. He couldn't wait to see fully the contour of her hips. The fertile part, he would counteract with a condom. Beyond that, it was all Dean could do not to bury his face in her chest right there, rip aside the fragile, concealing silk and apply his lips and tongue to the different skin textures. His nipples tightened under the mental stimuli. If he hadn't been laid several times already this week, he'd have had a lot more difficulty controlling the heat wanting to pool in his groin. Too soon for that.

Before she could call him on his temporary distraction, Dean took a breath and answered decisively, "To us... And to tonight, whatever comes of it." He couldn't help a naughty wink, it was just who he was. Clinking his glass against Ellema's, he held her eyes while he drained the whole double shot. It was no secret that she found him as attractive as he found her, and he wondered if she'd ever been with a white guy before.

"Another?" Dean asked as their glasses thunked down on the polished wooden bar. He reached for the bottle, examining the label. This was so much better than the rotgut his dad afforded – and perfect for a five-finger discount. Oh yeah, they'd have a good night. 

* * *

"Please," SHE smiled as SHE slid HER glass closer to Dean's, making sure that their fingers touched. "I like that. To whatever comes out of it tonight." SHE put just the slightest emphasis on the word 'comes'. That was only a part of HER plan, but SHE was going to enjoy it, along with everything else he had to offer. 

Instead of picking up HER glass and drinking, SHE let HER index finger move over his wrist. "No need to hurry," SHE whispered, leaning even closer. "The night is still young, and we want to make the best of it."

SHE could sense his arousal and moved back a fraction of an inch; it was all part of the play. "Always work to do," SHE confirmed what he'd said, returning to conversation. "Mine is mostly paperwork. It's boring. But it pays well. Anthony," SHE angled HER head in the barman's direction, "knows that. He also knows that he will get paid well for his services to me. Which includes the Scotch and your ID."

* * *

It was only a casual touch, though Dean could tell it had been deliberate. Still the contact with Ellema's fingers zinged though him like static electricity, only pleasant, _pleasurable_. The side of his wrist felt hot. Her hands were so soft! They'd feel like heaven wrapped around his dick.

Dean blinked as he fumbled for words. "Yeah, whatever comes..." Definite double meaning now. He flicked his eyes at the bartender. "So, his services, huh? Like on retainer? That sounds... uh, like a good arrangement." What it sounded like to Dean was that the man was either Ellema's paid toady, or that he owed her for more than money. What sort of family did this woman come from anyway? Something like the mob? Dean still had the business card of a certain attorney from New Jersey tucked away in the recesses of his duffel bag's inner lining, and he prayed he never had to call the number on it. He would have to be careful, if he wanted to play with this one, and he definitely still did. Just ask his balls, which were already starting to sweat and hang heavier. "Hey, if it keeps me in drinks, right?" He laughed. 

Dean cast about for something to talk about. If Ellema wanted a slow build-up, he could oblige. "I'd never survive a desk job," he returned to the earlier subject, and gave the Winchester standard cover story, #2. "I'm more the 'hands-on type." Here, he paused to let his eyes wander down Ellema's throat and the curves below where he wanted his hands to follow. "I'm a mechanic, when I can find the work." It was already out of his mouth before Dean wished he could take it back. A well-paid woman like her would be looking for a man with a white-collar profession: banking, medicine, imports, not some often-unemployed grease monkey with calloused hands. Then he figured, once again, fuck it. Not like she knew the real story. Besides, plenty of rich chicks liked to slum it, and if that was her deal he was more than good enough for her. He would be the best she'd ever had. 

Dean poured them each a refill. "Cheers. Or maybe I should say, bottoms up..." 

* * *

SHE was about to comment on his 'hands-on' remark, but didn't want to interrupt him. Slightly amused but also pleased with the way his eyes caressed HER body, SHE could still give him HER full attention when he continued. 

He told HER that he was a mechanic. SHE sensed immediately that, as much as it was the truth, it was only a part of it. Most men SHE'd met were open books. This one was different. SHE could read embarrassment from him, as if he wanted to be something 'better' for HER. There was also a lot of pride he took in his profession – and in himself, which made HER smile, although SHE agreed that he was nothing to snot at, not even by HER standards. And yet, there was something he wasn't telling HER. Something big. Maybe SHE should take the warning and leave well enough alone, but SHE had to admit that SHE liked the challenge.

In answer to his toast, SHE took HER glass and emptied it – in tiny sips, with HER head tilted back slightly so that he could see HER swallowing. His eyes widened and SHE smiled at him again when SHE set the glass down again. His eyes went even wider when SHE let her tongue tip flick over her lips to trace the remaining hints of HER drink. SHE wouldn't feel much effect from the alcohol and he seemed to know his limits, so SHE poured them another.

"It keeps you and me in drinks," SHE resumed the earlier topic. "And it makes Anthony happy." Putting HER hand on his again, SHE made sure he knew that this time it wasn't an accidental touch. 

"There are, however, things money can't buy." HER fingers wandered up his arm, barely touching but it was clear that he felt the heat SHE poured into the move. "Things like you and me, being here together." 

Cocking HER head, SHE picked up HER glass again and whispered, "Shall we have this one for the road?"

* * *

Dean nodded at the remark of them both being there, now, went beyond price. A person couldn't buy whatever it was between humans that was loosely known as chemistry. He would know. Even if the timing was only happenstance, her clear flirting, pink tongue flicking over her lower lip, was anything but. Mirroring the come-on in his own way, Dean parted his lips and licked the lower, did that _thing_ with the upper that made girls cross their legs and dudes adjust themselves, let it rise a fraction of an inch to accentuate the dip in the middle, the puffiness along the seam of his mouth that he'd seen for himself would swell further with arousal. And he was getting there. 

"It's no coincidence," he agreed, and crossed his other hand over to stroke Ellema's arm from wrist, to halfway to the elbow, and back down. Taking her slender wrist, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. "One for the road." 

Dean could hold his liquor pretty well, but didn't want to let it impair his ability to drive... or perform. As it happened, the majority of his hook-ups had been under the influence, not that he needed it. The alcohol was to lessen the ache of something less than the deep feelings – love – he lacked. Dean also knew for a fact he got off a hell of a lot harder, sober. But that had been Sam, and that was over. Ellema with her intent interest and already doing him a good turn with the barman, seemed to offer something more, too. When it came to sex, Dean didn't hold anything back, or if he did it was for the greater satisfaction of his partner. Ellema was, just by being, remarkable to him. He could hardly wait to get them naked and close, so close, moving together, driving each other higher. 

Tossing back his drink, Dean savored the burn going down. "So... Your car or mine?" Baby was something special and Dean made sure she was spotless, but for all he knew, Ellema had arrived in a limo. Or something high-end. "We can't go to my place... Kid brother's home." He didn't want her to know his dad was around. For most, since he wasn't in school, still living under his parent's roof – such as it was – shed him in an immature, downright lame, light. And she would be absolutely out of place in the run-down apartment they were renting, a rare bloom in a wasteland. Dean's room was barely bigger than a jail cell, with cracks in the walls and a sagging mattress. He pushed all that into its own compartment and instead, smiled self-deprecatingly and straightened his shoulders. 

* * *

SHE didn't need to think long before making a decision. Filing the information about the 'kid brother at home' away for further reference, SHE slid off HER bar stool to his side. Since they'd be going to HER place, the logical choice would be HER car. That he'd even asked implied that his car was special, at least to him, which was emphasized by Dean introducing himself as a mechanic. "How about we take _your_ car and go to _my_ place?" SHE replied with a smile as radiant and promising as his.

SHE was tall, but he stood taller. HER expectation that his body was a temple to worship was confirmed the more SHE saw of him. Strong but not too broad shoulders tapered into not too slim hips in a perfect shape. SHE didn't like twinks, and despite his youth in terms of years he was a mature male. He wore a flannel shirt that was open in front over a tee with fabric just thin enough to outline stiff peaks where his nipples had tightened up. A not-so-subtle glance at his crotch suggested that his nipples weren't the only stiff parts of his body.

Reaching for HER purse, SHE left five 100-dollar bills on the bar. It was a generous tip but SHE was in a generous mood. 

SHE held out HER hand to Dean and purred, "Coming?"

* * *

Five hundred bucks?! How much did a person make that they considered that a reasonable tip for a few drinks? Well, and a favor or two, but still. Dean opened his mouth to question Ellema if she was sure she'd counted right when she stood where he could get a look at her – all of her, and the words dried up on his tongue. But that was all, in terms of dry, when all of a sudden the inside of his cheeks prickled and saliva rushed from its glands, while below the belt another hot, uncontrollable and more substantial rush of fluid hardened him behind his fly. Ellema stood still and slid her eyes over his body, stopping at his bulge before moving on. Dean didn't know whether to be mortified for popping wood in a public place, or just unconcerned enough to show it off. For her. 

Because... who wouldn't get a boner over this girl? The impression he'd had before that she was exotic, priceless, rare, deepened. While she had an air of command about her, like she was used to people following her orders – must be her work, Dean justified to himself – she was also not still trying to display her attributes to the rest of the crowd even as he led her out the door the way some girls did. She was easily the tallest woman he'd been with, posture proud, and he hadn't noticed it much before but her glossy black hair fell in thick waves well past her shoulders. Tasteful clothes accentuated rather than overtly revealed the lush sway of the classic female form. Dean just wanted to lay her down, undress her slowly and make love to every inch of her body with his hands and mouth and his dick, oh christ he was totally sprung now, leaking into his shorts. Flushed and panting, Dean fished his keys from his pocket before he couldn't. Thank goodness his flannel covered him if he tugged it down, which he did. 

"Whatever you want... Let's go." Dean grabbed the bottle they'd been pouring from on the way out – Ellema had more than paid for it. Then, he crowded in close to her again, inhaled her scent. It had to be some stupid animalistic instinct, wanting to keep her safe from the other males in the place, at the same time wanting everyone to know and see that she was his. Or maybe vice-versa. 

They couldn't get outside fast enough in Dean's opinion. He took her hand, just that sent shivers into his groin. Baby was parked not far away. Dean led Ellema to the Impala and opened the door for her. Before she could get in, though, he spun them so her back was to Baby's rear door. He had to taste her, just a little! Pressing himself to her warm body, Dean dipped his head down and kissed her. The taste of whiskey and something female, sweet and somehow timeless invaded his senses. 

* * *

'They' said that humans could recognize a suitable mating partner by their pheromones. SHE didn't have to rely on such primitive methods, but during the millennia even SHE had rarely sensed as perfect a match to HER like Dean. Tempted to snort in contempt of Ra, HER attention to Dean never faltered, though.

Every time SHE looked at him, SHE felt excitement rush through HER veins. Outside and up close, SHE could perceive his scent stronger than before and unfiltered from the bar smells. If SHE'd have needed any more conviction that he was the one, SHE had solid proof of it when he slid his tongue into HER mouth. His taste exploded in HER and it was perfect. HE was perfect.

Just when SHE was pondering whether to let HER body melt against his or wait until they were at HER place, a noise disrupted the silence of the night. It was a song, something 'they' called hard rock, and it came from Dean's pants pocket. A cell phone. SHE withdrew from the kiss, slowly, as if SHE was marking HER territory and frowned at the interruption.

"Do you want to get that?" SHE made to move away to give him privacy.

* * *

Before leaving, Dean had reassembled the gun he'd been cleaning and cleared the supplies away. The living room and kitchen looked pristine – if one disregarded the general state of the place, of course. John nodded in appreciation of his eldest, as this was certainly not Sam's doing. As obsessed as Sam was with tidiness, he hadn't shown any of it during the past days.

Now John was beginning to wonder if Sam's particularly foul mood and also the listlessness had been caused by the onset of the illness. It didn't explain why Sam had run off to Flagstaff, but Sam had expressed his unwillingness to live a hunter's life ever since he'd been old enough to grasp the concept. Although John wouldn't admit it, Sam could easily out-logic him, but since puberty had hit, Sam tended to make irrational decisions. Maybe in the fifteen-year-old's mind, running away from home had seemed the best way of achieving a high school education. He shook his head and sighed. There was nothing more he wanted than allow his boys to live a normal life, but it couldn't be. Especially Sam, they'd always have to keep an eye on him.

He was pulled from his dark thoughts by a moan from Sam's room. His youngest's face was pale with red splotches indicating that his fever had risen. Sam's head was thrashing on the pillow and he was muttering something that John immediately recognized as Dean's name.

Of course, he thought to himself. Dean had always been the one to look after sick Sammy when he'd been little, and there had been a lot of illness in Sam's first years. Maybe the persistently upset stomach and chest infections – to the point of pneumonia– followed by years of near-asthmatic wheezing coughs were little Sam's way of expressing how much he missed his mother; John didn't know. He was, however, not surprised that Sam would call out for his brother, even though he'd refused to speak to Dean for the past week or so.

John sighed. Dean had probably found a date by now, but he'd kill his father – maybe even literally – if John didn't call him and let him know that Sammy was asking for him. He went to the bathroom and wet a towel with cold water for Sam's burning forehead, then he told him to hang on and promised that Dean would return soon. John had no doubt of that when he dialed his eldest's number.

* * *

Dammit! Just as they began to merge and move together in the kiss, Dean's phone rang and buzzed in his other front pocket. Ellema's taste still fresh on his tongue, Dean wanted to curse as she pulled away, withdrawing the warmth he was so drawn to. He held his temper in check and palmed the phone. 

Dad? What the fuck did he want, after kicking Dean out for the night? Dean bet that he and Sam had spent the last hour grumping and bitching at each other, and John couldn't handle it. A little niggle that Sam might be really sick crossed his mind, but Dean ignored it. Let his dad be a parent, for once. He hit the Ignore Call option, and turned the setting to mute. 

"It's nothing," he told Ellema, who had walked away a few steps. "I'll get back to them later. Much later." Her expression didn't strike him as annoyed, but he had been right in not taking the call, if he didn't want her to lose interest. She had a predatory gleam in her eyes, same as before, yet she didn't plan to let him be the one to call it off – she'd get the jump on him if he made a wrong move. The lights from the bar's marquee, behind Ellema, revealed her silhouette, including, as she paced, an ass he wanted to grab with both paws and not let go of when they fucked. Since the parking lot lights were almost directly above her, he could almost see though the thin shirt, and Dean homed to her like a bee to a flower... or to honey. He dropped his voice an octave. "Come back here..." 

* * *

SHE watched closely when Dean frowned at his phone and dismissed the call. However, it had clearly upset him. The last thing SHE intended was having Dean being distracted from HER later; SHE really wanted his full attention.

"Are you sure?" SHE asked as SHE approached him again. Although it would delay HER plans, SHE toned HER essence down a little and adjusted it to the spirit of a caring friend rather than a ready-to-be-bedded female.

* * *

"Yeah, I'm sure it's nothing life or death." Was it? People didn't die from chicken pox. Dean had heard it was more dangerous for adults, but Sam hadn't technically reached that mark yet, though his size said otherwise. He had a few inches yet... But best not think about Sam and his _inches_.

Belatedly, Dean decided that if Ellema wasn't coming to him, he'd go to her. Women liked to put on the understanding friend act when they sensed their guy was about to bolt. A call from Dad didn't count as rejection, only a pesky – if short – delay. Smiling, he crossed the few steps between them. Something was... different, now. Not as urgent. Really, Dean wondered at himself for being in such a rush. He liked to take his time with women, well, because that's what they tended to want and appreciate. He leaned in, and wrapped Ellema's body in his arms, shivering at the scent and sensuality of her molding to him. Laying his fingers against her smooth jaw, Dean tipped her head up. "Ellema..." he whispered as he let his lips slide over hers again, sucking a kiss, releasing it, and then another. 

* * *

SHE could read in his eyes that his mind wasn't completely at ease, but SHE also sensed his determination to ignore the call. It was something SHE could go along with.

"Good," SHE purred when he approached, more relaxed than he'd been before, which actually suited HER plans. SHE put a little steel in HER voice when SHE continued, "I'd have rather called it a night now than being left high and dry later." SHE allowed HERself a teasing smirk and softened HER voice again. "Not that _you_ would know how that feels. No girl in her right mind would do that to you."

He wrapped his arms around HER and kissed HER again, gentler than before, in a fashion humans would probably describe as sweet. SHE decided that SHE liked this side of him, too – and SHE also liked the way he pronounced HER name. Initially, SHE'd taken on the name 'Ellema' because it described what SHE was and didn't give the name away by which SHE'd been known millennia ago. Hearing it roll off his tongue made HER feel a warmth that SHE hadn't perceived in a long time.

Maybe SHE would keep him around. First, though, SHE had to confirm that he really was suitable. Dean continued to kiss HER, slowly and sensually, and SHE caressed his tongue with HERS. He made the most delightful little noises and SHE let the heat build up a little. He kissed along HER jawline, then down HER neck, until he sucked lightly on HER collarbone. It felt so good that SHE almost felt tempted to drop HER mask, but SHE managed to pull HERself together just in time, only shivering a little, which he probably wouldn't find surprising. 

With his nose against HER neck, SHE had easy access to his ears. SHE licked along the shell and whispered, "Maybe it was just as well that your cell rang." SHE placed more kisses on his ear, then bit his lobe so that he'd feel it, but not that it would hurt. "Gives us time to gather our senses and get out of here before we embarrass ourselves in the parking lot."

He looked up and SHE kissed his lips again. "I suggest we go."

* * *

The cool night air swirled around them in a gentle breeze. Between them, heat coalesced in lips on skin and throbbing blood. Without a word, Ellema directed Dean somehow, with the responsive movements of her head and torso. "No one would dare leave you hanging, either," he suggested between tiny nips down her neck. His ears rendered him helpless, he gasped and moaned high and light as a girl at the teeth, caressing wet tongue, suction on the lobe. Just when it became too much, she switched to the other side. His dick raged iron-hard and made an obscene bulge at his crotch, which Dean shoved against Ellema's hip in a couple of shuddering grinds. Just as he was about to break and spurt into his shorts, she let up. 

_"...get out of here before we embarrass ourselves in the parking lot."_ The voice seemed to come from far away. Dean had been thinking the same before she'd gone to work on his ears. Now they were burning, he was horny beyond belief and almost pissed off she'd called a halt, however much sense it made. Not that she said stop, but that someone else might try to come between them, and stupid society's 'decency' rules. There were no children here. Part of being an adult was sex and other people screwing shouldn't be such a shock. Ellema's physical beauty stood out like a silk scarf amongst burlap; as much a Dean bitched about his imperfections, he knew what he looked like. 

"Yeah..." He drew a shaky breath and stepped back a little. Ellema's cheeks were flushed now, her hair mussed, already lush lips swollen and, he was especially pleased to see, her chest heaving for want of air. "I s'pose we shouldn't give everyone a free show. Shall we go...?" With others, Dean might have gone on to mock-complain about blueballs, but no doubt she was well aware – she'd felt how hard he was.

By mutual, unspoken agreement, they got into the car without any further touching. Dean turned the key and Baby's engine roared to life. He put her in gear and drove as far as the parking lot's entrance from the street. Once seated Dean had to further adjust himself, and he spread his legs to make some room between them for his balls. Taken near the edge once already, they itched with built-up seed.

He had to use his upstairs brain now, Dean mentally kicked himself. "Right or left," he asked, "to get to your place?"

* * *

SHE could literally taste Dean's disappointment when SHE drew away. It was clear that he didn't like the delay, but he stepped back a little and suggested that they shouldn't _give everyone a free show._

"No, no show for anyone," SHE agreed. "You're mine tonight." If he noticed the predatory gleam in HER eyes, he didn't show a reaction, but SHE wasn't worried: most men SHE'd met so far had been happy to be with a woman who wasn't afraid to take the initiative. If Dean was different, SHE'd be equally happy to let him take over.

They got into the car – SHE didn't care much for make, but Dean was obviously proud of his ride – and he started driving. SHE gave him directions and immediately pondered their options. It would take them 20 minutes to get to HER place, and SHE was getting impatient, which surprised HER: after millennia of waiting, a few minutes shouldn't make much of a difference – another sign that SHE'd chosen wisely; Dean was indeed special.

SHE could afford to indulge, though. When several small roads branched off to their right SHE leaned closer to Dean and whispered, "We're still some way out. What say you, shall we take the edge off?"

* * *

A nearly-full moon hung in the southeastern sky, the mellow glow of late spring. They traveled south, on one of the many streets that paralleled the Interstate. 'Right' would take them up into foothills. Between doing John's many assigned chores and errands and keeping an eye on Sam, Dean hadn't had much time to just drive around and explore, but he'd seen in other places how the well-to-do built their homes on the outskirts or in tucked-away little valleys where they couldn't be easily spied on. That suited their purposes, too. 

"Yeah, before I – we – hurt ourselves," Dean winked. "You know a likely place?" he asked, taking a road that he knew led to a smaller podunk a few miles away, at a much higher elevation. Not wishing to be separated from her warmth now, Dean held up his right arm, gesturing for her to slide over and lean against him. His body was still in high gear, kept at a certain level of arousal by the combined pheromones filling Baby's interior. Long familiar with his own scent, Dean found it interesting, the myriad combinations of his combined with others'.

Ellema had insinuated, despite the trace of accent, that she'd lived here her whole life. She had to know her way around. Soon, Baby was climbing and trees appeared along the road. There were various turn-offs but he stuck to the main two-lane. Finally she pointed out a narrower road that didn't seem to have many houses along it and in minutes, civilization was behind them. Dean pulled over into a dirt track that led into thicker woods and killed the engine. 

Moving out from behind the steering wheel into the center of the bench seat, he guided Ellema halfway into his lap. With their faces even, kissing was utterly natural, so easy, but Dean didn't need easy and he wrapped his arms tightly around Ellema, one hand sliding down her spine and the other creeping up to tangle his fingers in her thick hair. Unable to stop the sound's escape, Dean moaned, loud. "Touch me!" he hissed. "Tell me what you want!" 

* * *

"You," SHE replied immediately. "I want _you."_ SHE straddled him and they kissed for a few minutes, starting slow but picking up pace almost instantly. It was impossible to miss the heat rising from his groin and SHE canted HER lower body against him to provide much needed friction, making him moan loudly.

Both of Dean's hands were on HER body but not where SHE wanted them. Sliding HER hand along his arm to the hand he had in HER hair, SHE moved it to HER mouth and kissed it before placing it on HER breast. He got the message and put his other hand there as well, and now it was SHE who moaned.

Reaching down between them, SHE undid the top button of his jeans and ran HER fingers along the waistband as SHE kissed him again, deeply. 

"Touch me," SHE said a moment later, breaking the kiss, "and when I say 'touch', I want your skin on mine."

* * *

_Skin on skin..._ "God, yeah!" Dean agreed. He was loathe to quote the second half of that cheesy Def Leppard lyric, but man could he hear the power chord riff in his head.

Kissing and dry humping was not enough – she wanted naked skin, his, hers, _now_.The woman meant business, and she wanted it now. Besides the booze, Dean was high on the pure rush of an uninhibited, even demanding lover. After Ellema guided his hands to cup and squeeze her pillowy but heavy breasts, she went for his jeans, fingertips trailing across ticklish abdominal planes to hipbones and back. She was full-on straddling him now, skirt bunched up on her smooth thighs, the heat of her crotch shoved down against his balls at the moment. Seldom had any female been as straightforward and Dean's brain practically blew a fuse as he hustled to do her bidding. 

As soon as Ellema unbuttoned his jeans, which were tight on him to begin with, his dick tried like hell to push free of sweat-damp cotton and into her hand. Half-frantic, he let go of her long enough to pull his shirts off over his head. Exposed to cool air, his nipples burned with their own demands. 

"P-please," stuttered Dean, tripping up his plea when one digit brushed across the tip of his glans, smearing slick. Ellema trailed it around the ridge of the crown; he thought he'd die of sensory overload and want. His belly and thighs were beginning to tremble already. He'd never had trouble getting the ladies out of their clothes, but he also didn't want to rip anything so finely made. It took every ounce of concentration to undo her blouse's buttons, but his experience served Dean well and he pushed the silk off her shoulders, unhooking her bra next and tossing it aside. Holy mother of... 

"Gotta taste these!" Dean moaned. He closed his mouth over her right nipple and sucked hard. His erection hardened to the point of pain at the salt-sweet flavor, the stiff peak, so different from a man's and probably the darkest he'd ever seen, perfect to curl his tongue around. Then he moved to the left trailing kisses across Ellema's cleavage and did it all over again. He kneaded her ass cheeks under her skirt but over her panties – silk again – and rutted against her from below. 

* * *

The message was clear: here and now. It was what SHE'd asked for and what he needed; his begging didn't leave any doubt of his desperation. SHE let HER body flow with his, gasping when he thumbed HER nipples, and putting HER hands on his nipples as soon as he'd pushed his shirts off, making him gasp in reply. His fingers were shaking with need, yet he still managed to unbutton HER blouse. When his mouth descended on the diamond hard peaks on HER chest, SHE cried out. His tongue made love to HER tight and meanwhile painfully swollen buds while his hands kneaded HER buttocks, fighting the instinct to pull HER closer against his dick.

Oh, he was needy and yet he was polite, doing his best to not force HER into anything. SHE took his face in HER hands and lifted it up so SHE could kiss his lips again. 

"I want you _now,"_ SHE whispered and licked into his mouth. "But it's been a long time for me and I didn't bring anything..."

SHE let the sentence trail off. It would be easier for HER plan if he didn't insist on protection, but a condom wouldn't be a problem. SHE'd let him decide.

Taking one of his hands off HER chest, SHE brought it down to her crotch and made him feel the soaked silk. He groaned, and SHE pushed the thin fabric aside and guided his fingers inside HER.

"Make that I _need_ you now!" SHE hissed. "Please hurry!"

* * *

Dean's head was spinning. Between giving attention to where-ever Ellema pushed his hands and writhing in his seat as she tweaked his nipples, he was unable to focus on anything any longer but first, how much his cock hurt and strained and leaked. Second, she was soaking wet. Wringing wet. His hand contacted the hot silk and pushed it aside, fingers seeking and sinking into her. Dean's nose itched as a much stronger whiff of woman reached his olfactory sensors and he had to shove the heel of his other hand against the base of his dick to keep himself in check. Lifting up a little, he managed to wrestle his jeans down just enough and his wallet out of the back pocket. 

"Been a while, huh?" She must be choosy, then – Ellema could've pulled almost any guy, unless he'd taken a vow of celibacy or had some kind of prejudice, which in Dean's mind was the lamest thing ever. He felt honored, in some sense, that she'd waited for him, though it was hardly mutual with a history like his and she didn't elaborate on exactly how long that was. Long enough she no longer carried protection or whatever she'd had before had expired. At least a year. Somehow, he got a condom rolled down to cover his red-purple erection. "I'd love to do you bare but it's too risky. Mostly for you," he added. 

Their respective genitals were just adjacent, so close. Dean wiggled his pants down a little more, before her wetness made his crotch look like he'd peed himself. Then he was in her, one hand to guide his dick and the other to pull at Ellema's hip. Her slippery inner walls gripped at him, squeezing tight. Every swear word he knew ran through his mind but he only grunted as he bottomed out, pulled back slightly and shoved it in again. "'S that what you needed?" he rasped, looking her in the eyes, "need me to fill you up... "

* * *

SHE didn't correct his assumption that unprotected sex would be more dangerous for HER – SHE couldn't 'catch anything' from him. SHE was, however, pleased that he was aware of the risks because that meant that he was taking good care of himself. In any event, it wasn't a time for talking.

Dean gloved up, mercifully quickly. His strong hands raised HER buttocks and poised HER above him, then let HER down again and sank all the way in. SHE gripped him tightly inside HER body, reveling in the friction and heat when he pulled back and pushed in even deeper. SHE clenched hard around him and he grunted. Then SHE let go, he pulled back, shoved in again, and SHE tightened up again, anticipating his moves and letting the pleasure ripple through HER body as it became one with his.

_"'S that what you needed?"_ HER eyes met Dean's when he asked, and SHE bore down, taking him deep again. He was big, so big that not many women could take him fully, but SHE could. It had been a century since SHE'd allowed a man near HER, but it must have been millennia ago since anyone had given HER this, filled HER so good, been a perfect match to HER.

"It's what we both need," SHE replied. SHE knew that he was close, and SHE started gyrating HER hips. As SHE'd stated, this was merely to take the edge off; the night had barely begun.

"Give me all you have!"

* * *

At her invitation – no, demand – Dean allowed himself free rein with the strength of his thrusts. Every jab brought him closer. In his balls and hip joints, his climax built up delicious tension. Astride him, Ellema snapped her pelvis in hitching circles, her large breasts bouncing. Drawn to dark nipples still spit-shiny in whatever low light was available through the windows, Dean bent to suck one into his watering mouth again. 

Her moans and little gasps took him higher. As tight as she was, Dean had no trouble in moving thanks to the sheer amount of natural lubricant, which smeared onto his thighs and balls. He had no doubt that she was using his dick to rub at the most sensitive inner surfaces with every supple grind. Sliding his fingers between them, Dean found the outer panic button, her clit. A few firm strokes across the tiny gland had her shaking. 

The two of them matched perfectly! Both so desperate, crashing together in sharp near-rough thrusts, as though Ellema could read his mind with every small increase in pace. "I- I'm gonna..." Dean thrust upward once more. "Oh god!" Everything he had...? Yeah, that was pouring from him now in long, satisfying spurts. Ellema's back arched and her head was thrown back, her body rocking against him, frenzied. "Come for me!" he growled, though she was obviously going for it. 

* * *

"Yesss," SHE hissed when Dean ordered HER to come – for him. It was unheard of that SHE'd take orders from anyone, but he was special. His raw power, the urge with which he invaded and claimed HER body – SHE wondered if SHE'd ever felt that before. He was special, so special that SHE was about to tell him what his role would be. But then, his fingers rubbed _that_ spot again, and suddenly, nothing mattered any longer. Nothing except his hand on a tiny organ, whose significance SHE'd questioned for millennia, and his penis deep inside HER, touching HER in places SHE'd not been aware of in a long time, if not forever.

SHE snarled, HER lips pulled back, showing HER teeth and what SHE was, a feral creature. Just like him: the expression on Dean's face wasn't one SHE associated with a human. He was fucking into HER with abandon, as if his life depended on it, and HERS.

"YESSS!!!" SHE screamed when he hit that place inside HER again and again, multiplied by the pleasure-pain of rubbing HER clit too hard, but oh-so incredibly needed. 

He growled and SHE knew he was there, the heat inside HER body increasing when he shot his essence into the condom. The knowledge of the absolute power SHE had over him hit HER and then SHE screamed again when SHE followed him over the edge, into the abyss that meant he was really HERS now.

* * *

Then it was over. Dean came back to the present and took stock. Half-naked: check. Windows steamed: check. Condom full of jizz and needing to be taken care of: check, and ew. Dean had never been inside anyone bare, he wasn't an idiot. The necessities were less than pleasant. 

Ellema was draped over him, catching her breath, so he remained still for the moment. She'd been magnificent. The woman rode him like a wild animal, snarling with need and then release, or maybe the more accurate description was, like some ancient goddess brought to life to mate with one lucky man. The thought both stroked Dean's ego and filled him with a strange moment of unease. 

Shrugging it off, Dean gave her a little hug and asked, "Everything alright?" Ellema was still panting, clothing askew, and she seemed in no hurry to move. "That was awesome, but we should probably get out of here." 

* * *

"We should," SHE agreed reluctantly. Lifting up, SHE felt him slide out of HER body, and SHE immediately missed being filled by him. Not bothering with HER bra, SHE buttoned HER blouse and adjusted HER skirt – not that it made much difference, but then, nobody would see it except for HER and Dean.

"My place is about ten minutes from here," SHE informed him as SHE watched him tying off the condom. "We made the right choice," SHE smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "That was awesome. _You_ were awesome and I can't wait for the rest of the night."

His pants were still shoved down his thighs and before he could pull them up again SHE cupped his male jewels. They were heavy in HER hand and HER smile widened as SHE infused them with HER power.

He gave HER a look SHE couldn't quite read when he got dressed again, but SHE wasn't worried. SHE had him, hook, line, and sinker, as they said, and SHE was sure that he had no intention of calling it a night.

"Back to the main road, and I'll direct you from there," SHE whispered into his ear and kissed the shell. When Dean followed HER instructions, SHE kept HER place close to him with HER head leaning against his shoulder. Everything was perfect.

* * *

They got themselves somewhat back in order, Dean smiling to himself while Ellema was openly affectionate. She reached between his legs to give his tingling gonads a little squeeze. It had to stem from the recent, positive experience still glowing in the air around them, but Dean would've sworn that frissons of warmth flowed in. "What did you just do to me?" he asked, trying to keep it light. It felt good, damned nice, he just wasn't so sure it was altogether natural, and his hunter training didn't allow for anything that wasn't one hundred percent human. Ellema didn't seem 'off' in any way, though. He couldn't exactly pull his silver blade at a time like this. 

Before he could wonder any further, she licked his ear shell playfully and gave directions to her place. Well, she'd certainly learned Dean's hot spots quickly. Flustered, he pulled up his jeans and fired Baby up, determined to at least try holy water before they commenced anything else sexual. Memorizing the landmarks as he went, Dean got them to the place Ellema claimed was hers in about the twenty minutes she'd cited. He couldn't have said what, if anything, they talked about along the way. There was laughter, touching, he had the distinct mental fingerprint of her eyes, the exact shape and color of them with thick lashes and the touch of make-up she wore, always on him. 

The 'house' was set back from the road, surrounded by cedars and spruce trees, made of brick and timber. Three stories, pitched roof, with the character and detailing that told him it had to be well over a hundred years old yet it was so well-maintained the bricks could have come from the ovens yesterday, absolutely no crumbling or settling. Dean had only seen places like that in books, or on a job – because they were haunted. "Nice place," he tried to sound like he wasn't too overly impressed, but that was a lie. "Do you... live here with your family?" he queried nervously. Though there were no other visible vehicles about besides an ATV around the side, he would never be able to relax completely with the thought of her parents on the premises while he ravished their daughter – or vice versa. The thrill of that had worn off years ago, thanks to one particular gun-toting redneck. Yet how could she afford such a house? 

* * *

The drive to HER place was pleasant. SHE and Dean shared looks but didn't speak much. The silence felt like one between old friends – not that SHE'd had friends in a very long time, but SHE hadn't forgotten what it was like.

SHE smiled when he commented on HER house. It had been one of HER homes for a long time: for obvious reasons SHE couldn't stay at the same place for more than ten years, but people forgot after a generation, and SHE had returned to live here whenever SHE could. 

"My family," SHE started to speak in answer to his question, "have been gone for a long time." He looked uncomfortable and SHE touched his arm. "It's all right."

They stepped out of the car and SHE led him to the front door. "Welcome to my humble abode," SHE smiled. 

* * *

So the house had been left to her. "Oh... I'm sorry, about your family." Dean meant it. He wondered what a long time meant, and who raised her. "I lost... My mom died when I was little." 

While Ellema claimed to be a couple years older than Dean, his instincts said she was older than that. They had something in common, then. Beside the obvious. Feeling both sympathetic and protective even though she didn't seem too grieved any longer, Dean put his arm around her shoulder. "It couldn't have been easy for you." That, he based on his own life. Not wanting to pry, he asked, "Do I get the tour?" 

* * *

"Do you want the bedroom tour first or the house tour?" It was out before SHE could stop HERself. For some reason, Dean was getting to HER. This was new, and SHE decided that SHE liked it although it meant that SHE'd have to be more careful.

Pushing the thought aside, SHE focused on what he had said right before asking for the tour. "I'm sorry about your mother," SHE said, leaning into him, feeling his pain. It was a strange sensation. SHE had never had a mother and Dean's grief made HER wonder if SHE was lucky to not have experienced the loss or if SHE should be sad for not knowing the joy that had led to his grief. 

"You mentioned a younger brother earlier," SHE prompted, remembering that he hadn't wanted to talk about it. SHE wouldn't force him to, but SHE was curious. "Would you tell me about him? I don't have siblings," SHE added.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but laugh over her two tour options. "Okay... Bedroom tour now, house tour later. If we haven't passed out." He glanced up, taking in the polished wooden floors, staircase, and banisters, all very 'old world', though he couldn't say how he knew that. Holding up the bottle he'd filched from the bar, Dean announced. "Either from this or..." And he let it hang. Or would have if the prospect of mind-blowing sex didn't have him half-hard again. 

Glancing upwards, Dean assumed her room was on the second floor. Just as he'd turned to head upstairs, Ellema asked about Sam, or rather, his brother, since Dean hadn't revealed his name before. "Well, uh... Yeah okay." Though he agreed, Dean's gut told him he shouldn't. But why not? He never brought chicks home to meet his family. He had sex, not relationships. Since Dean had dropped out of high school two years ago the only one Sam had even known about was Nicole, Dean's on again-off again nearest-thing-he'd-had-to-a-girlfriend and just look at how that had turned out.

Ellema was waiting, still as a statue. "My little brother's 15, his name's Sam. Way smart, gets all A's in school and he's good at pretty much anything he tries. He likes reading and computers, running, soccer. He's my height but he's gonna get taller yet, skinnier, brown hair he wears long and shaggy – my dad hates it." Now that he had to expound on it, Dean didn't know what else to say without giving too much away, like that he was in love with his brother and would always be in love with his brother but they could never be together. "Since our mom died, we were always together, it was my job to watch out for him. We got along great other than a few prank wars... Till lately. We had this fight and he hates me now." Shit, the words escaped without him meaning to go there – _way_ too much information. He didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Dean chuckled weakly. "Hormonal teenagers, huh? And my brother has a hundred and one bitchfaces to express his every mood."

* * *

Dean wasn't telling HER everything, but it was clear how much he loved his brother. For a moment, SHE envied Dean, Sam, both of them, for their love. SHE'd never experienced that. The moment passed quickly, though, and SHE felt sorry for them. 

"I'm sure your brother doesn't hate you," SHE said. "Sometimes if you're very close to someone, they need to distance themselves so they can see the treasure they have." With _that,_ SHE had more experience than anyone could ever care for. "One day, maybe soon, maybe not so soon but the day will come when you and Sam are going to laugh about your fight."

SHE took his hand. "As I said, I have no siblings, and I cannot prove my point, but I have a long time of family lore to look back on." Looking into Dean's eyes, SHE sent a burst of warmth and comfort. "You and Sam will be close again."

Dean's face expressed his hope, and SHE hurried to change the topic. "As for the house tour, you have no idea what you just got yourself into," SHE said lightly. "I'm working with the US foreign office on Egyptian art and I'm a bit of a collector myself. However," SHE smiled, "as you agreed, I'll show you the bedroom first." 

SHE let out a silvery laugh. "It's a work of art, too," SHE purred, "with sheets of Egyptian cotton and..." HER voice lowered to a whisper as SHE continued after licking along his ear, "I can't wait to see you laid out on them."

* * *

Maybe Ellema was right, and Sam would forgive him eventually. Dean hoped it wouldn't take too many more weeks or months. The coldness between himself and Sam had become nearly unbearable since Sam's involuntary return to the family; it beat on him. 

Then Ellema as pressed against Dean again, playing with his ear and breathing hotly into the canal and he shivered, his attention turned back to the woman who offered him so much, even in the form of a night in her bed. "That sounds..." he gasped as her tongue flicked out, "so good... Let's go. You can get your look at me, then I wanna see that body of yours all spread out under mine." He swept her into his arms and laid a kiss on her lips, immediately sliding his tongue across Ellema's. "Bed... Where...?" Dean canted his hips forward to rub his dick against her. Doggy behavior, he chided himself, and grinned... wolfishly. 

* * *

"Deal," SHE breathed, returning the kiss with passion and pressing HER pelvis against Dean to provide friction. After a few minutes, SHE broke the kiss and grinned back at him. "I suggest we go up now, bedroom's upstairs, unless you want to take me on the stairs. Which, I admit, would be fun, but I still prefer the bed."

His expression had something feral in it that made HER heart skip a beat. Unwilling to wait even another second longer, SHE pulled him toward the stairs. 

"Come."

* * *

Dean let himself be pulled along up the stairs. Once they started to climb, their steps sped faster and faster. "Now there's one place I've never done it," he admitted, thinking back to other strange places he'd resorted to, to do the deed. His standard fare was girls' bedrooms, school broom closets, bar restrooms or back alleys, and Baby's back seat of course, but there'd been a the picnic shelter, the back of a school bus, a clothing store dressing room, the walk-in safe at an indoor gun range... 

Dean returned to the present when Ellema led him into her bedroom. "Holy–!". Or perhaps he simply tripped over his own hanging jaw and boner. The upstairs hallway had been dim; the bedroom – or master suite he supposed it was called – boasted more square footage than the entire apartment the Winchesters had camped in this month. Everything matched, free of dust and clutter. The far wall formed part of the back of the house, with large windows that couldn't be seen from the road. There was space enough on one side of the room for a living room set, besides various dressers, shelves, and other cabinets he couldn't have named the uses of. Across from them, the king-sized bed had to be bigger than his room, with a massive, elaborately-carved headboard. 

Silly as it might be, Dean wanted to jump on that bed like a little boy. The ceiling had to be fourteen feet high – they'd never touch it. 

And, though he knew what came next – himself and Ellema more than once after a vigorous round of fucking and some more sensual play later – Dean's chest hurt with how bad he wished Sam was here to just get a load of this place. His little brother would be all over it, touching everything, running off at the mouth excitedly about all he knew on the surely antique and rare furnishings... 

Blinking away any thought of naked, hard, _loving_ Sam on that bed, Dean picked Ellema up and carried her to it. Laying her down, he bent over her and kissed down her neck to the top of her cleavage. Damn, she was stunning. Exquisite. And she wanted him bad. She hadn't bothered to put her bra back on; his Neanderthal side gloated at the prize still lying on the Impala's floor. Now she moaned at nearly every touch: Dean kissed and licked every bit of her rich, cafe-au-lait skin as it was revealed, undressing her with trembling fingers. Like before, he couldn't get enough of her breasts with their sienna-brown nipples, how the slightest shift moved the soft flesh. He had to suck them, knead them, squeeze gently. Every time he went to do something more, Dean looked up and met her eyes, silently conveying his intent, asking permission. 

At some point, he crawled up on the bed, too, losing his jacket and flannel shirt. "You want me to do something, or don't do something, all you have to do is say." That was more leeway than he gave most of his lays, but Ellema was in another class entirely. That said, Dean rolled on top of her and nudged her knees apart. There was that heat again – her whole body, but especially her groin, just like him. He wanted to grind, or to bare his cock and shove it home. Instead, slithering downwards, he nipped along Ellema's neck and collarbone. Her skin was starting to gleam and taste salty – Dean supposed he was sweating too, eager, his erection thudding 'now now now' though it was too soon. He dragged his lips down the curve of her belly, flicked the navel, pulling her skirt and panties down and off. 

The scent of her hit him, and the animal within went wild on the pheromones. Not asking, Dean pushed her thighs wide, taking in the dark pink bits peeking though glossy black curls at the apex. She was slick with the female version of pre-come, hips pulsing impatiently as if he were already inside. "I think you need this," he stated. Then Dean ducked his head down and plied his tongue. At first he tasted latex but that was soon gone as he attacked her clit and slid two fingers inside. The tiny organ swelled, twitched, stood up tight and proud. First he licked the top part, then he circled it, criss-crossed it, sucked it, and started over again. All that time, he worked his fingers in and out while her internal muscles gripped and flexed. "Need in you..." Dean was so hard his dick felt like it was going to snap off with the pressure of that much trapped blood. Likewise, how her body produced so much he hadn't a clue, but Ellema bathed his hand in her juices while he did his best to bring her to the edge again and again but not let her come quite yet. No, not till she begged – or took what she wanted. 

* * *

"Really? I find it hard to believe there's a place you've never done it," SHE smirked, but admiringly rather than condescendingly. As young as he was, SHE'd already got a handful of his experience, and SHE couldn't wait for more. "Let's keep the stairs in mind for later," SHE offered. Then, they entered HER bedroom, and it became clear how young he really was. Oh, he was quite adept at playing it cool, but the awe he couldn't keep from his face when he took HER place in couldn't be hidden. It was endearing and at the same time, SHE valued him for his honesty, however involuntary it was.

It took him only a few seconds to recover before SHE found HERself in his arms, being carried from the door to the bed, and he showed HER the same awe and respect SHE'd read on his face for the room.

Watching and feeling how he was torn between pure lust and tenderness aroused HER to a point that SHE found almost frightening – almost, since it was still HER decision to let HERself get lost in him. He kissed, licked, nipped at HER skin like a starving man. Taking the edge off earlier had incited HER even further, and SHE wasn't surprised any longer that he went along with it. As different as they were, tonight SHE and Dean were kindred spirits, united by their needs and desires, regardless of what might come later.

When he undressed HER, SHE did HER best to cooperate, which wasn't easy given the way HER body was flailing under the assault of his tongue and fingers. He asked HER to tell him if SHE wanted anything, but SHE couldn't think any longer, not with his tongue working that magic spot again, and his fingers inside HER, touching another spot that SHE'd never been aware of in this form.

"Yessss," SHE hissed when he told her SHE needed this, wanting him to continue, desperate to be pushed off the cliff of passion, and at the same time wishing SHE'd never reach it, so SHE could stay in this limbo, just a tiny step below the ultimate high, forever.

Despite being lost in the deep sensuality SHE hadn't known before, SHE didn't miss Dean's desperation. When he stammered, gasped, moaned that he 'needed in HER', SHE felt that it wasn't an empty statement. 

"Need you in me, too," SHE groaned as he continued to lick HER. "Now. Need you to fill me so deep."

He'd taken off his shirt, but he was still wearing his tee and jeans. The head of his leaking erection peeked over the waistband and SHE cupped it with HER hand, rubbing firmly. "Please," SHE moaned. "Need it so bad..."

* * *

"Most of the weird places were for lack of a bed," Dean managed. "Supply closets and firetrucks aren't so comfortable!" He had to shut his eyes for a minute and close his hand over Ellema's on the tip of his cock when she begged for him to give it to her deep. Rather than knock her fingers away like he'd have done with Sam – playfully – he wrestled his zipper down and his shirt off and kicked out of the rest of his clothes while Ellema undulated on the pale sheets below. Her skin and hair contrasted, and Dean wanted to see his paler skin – all of it – in contrast, too. 

He couldn't wait, and Ellema was more than ready. Reaching between them, Dean guided himself till his glans found the steaming-hot source of all that slick. Hissing, he sank in in one quick, almost violent thrust. "Oh my god..." His voice hitched, high, like he'd been kicked in the nuts, but no, his glands swelled and tightened with seed. Belatedly he realized he'd forgot a condom. Never in his life had he been that stupid. What was she doing to him? Well, too late now. "I'm...mm sorry... I'll pull out..." 

And he was gone, hips bounding, pounding into her. God, he loved using his strength, not holding back. Dean grabbed, bit, everything in speeding rhythm. Emitting sounds that spoke of pleasure too seldom experienced, Ellema took it all, met him move for move. From the stinging lines down his skin, Dean registered how her nails scratched his back and ass, and she wrapped her limbs around him from below like she'd never let go. "Yes... Yes...!" Dean forgot about niceties like kissing and caressing in the wild frenzy. He needed deeper, deeper, to join them together till the two of them crashed in mutual implosion. Arching up as his nipples tingled from a few sharp pinches, Dean felt himself so close coming all of a sudden it was like his entire body was drooling. Only the thinnest unraveling thread of control held him back. "Ngh! You... Gotta... I'm gonna...!" 

* * *

SHE howled when he drilled into HER, his girth painful at first, but what a sweet pain it was! Dean mumbled something about pulling out, but SHE must have misheard as he continued to push into HER.

Wrapping HER legs around him, SHE pulled him in, raised HER ass as high as SHE could to encourage him to go even deeper. HER sounds were those of a wounded animal and he didn't sound human any longer, either, groaning and grunting, moving faster and more urgent with every second their coupling went on until his rhythm faltered and SHE knew he was about to lose it. 

Each of his thrusts had pushed HER higher to the incredible edge and SHE could have fallen over it at any time but SHE wanted to reach it together with him and become one with him in their dance. Never letting go of HER legs from around his body, SHE dug HER fingers into his lower back and clenched HER inner muscles, hard. He swelled impossibly within HER, and then they were there, crying out their ecstasy and writhing against each other as their essences mingled.

It was over too soon. Dean rolled off HER, visibly fighting to regain his breath, and maybe composure. SHE recovered a little faster, not missing the distress on his face. Frowning for a moment, SHE sifted through HER recent memory and found his announcement to pull out. Of course.

"I'm sorry," SHE said, taking his hand and meeting his eyes. "I wasn't thinking. I'm clean and I can go for Plan B in the morning. What about you, anything I should know?"

HER body wouldn't catch diseases, which was one of HER 'problems', after all, but SHE obviously wouldn't give that secret away.

* * *

She clasped around him, more of the skin-on-skin she'd demanded. Without a condom, it was like Dean could feel every minute shift of the inner muscles, and the velvety texture that he'd noted of most women with his fingers, but never experienced wrapped around his most sensitive organ. Dean couldn't get get enough of that grip as he sped his thrusts to the end, thigh and butt muscles burning with the effort, because he was going to come any second off the incredible friction and no way could he let up.

Like a summer storm, his release built and back-built. Below him, Ellema held on to him relentlessly as she bucked and rode out an orgasm or two or three till in the end, Dean told himself he had no choice but to let it go inside her. Rammed in to the hilt, he pushed and humped, needing to delve into her deeper yet. For the first time, Dean knew the ultimate power trip of impregnating a woman, even the possibility. It went against his hunter training; he could only imagine his dad and Sam rolling their eyes in unison, plus it was against his own few moral principles... But for a few seconds, that didn't matter. His seed. Him. Male. Man. And... Fertile ground, taking him in, all of him, not just his dick but his very essence. Nothing between them, not latex or chemicals. He gushed endlessly, moaning, overwhelmed, till his entire reproductive system felt raw and over-used. 

Shit. What had he done? Near panicking, Dean couldn't breathe. He rolled off onto his back and stared up at the high ceiling, contemplating all the possible repercussions. Ellema must have read his mind. 

"I'm sorry, too," Dean told her when he could speak. "I carry protection 24/7, never _not_ use it. Dunno..." He shook his head. He'd been about to suggest she'd put the whammy on him, but that would sound like he blamed her. No, he carried the responsibility for his own body. Belatedly, he responded to her implied questions, turning his head to look into her face. His skill at reading people lagged behind his dad and brother, but that wasn't to say it was nil. In naked moments like these, Dean would be able to spot a lie or evasion. 

"I'm clean, too. Still, you'll want to get yourself tested. And... Plan B? Plan B and C and so on is... good." That sounded lame. A back-up plan and a back-up for the back-up was essential for life in his line of work. Sometimes 'improvise or die' could just as well be their slogan. Still, the common vernacular should be familiar enough to cover. Then Dean's brain caught on. 

"Oh, you mean the morning-after thing. Uh, pill." Something he'd never had to resort to before. The heart attack-level anxiety eased a little, though. There might be an upside, in fact. "Right, absolutely. Now that we've done any damage, might as well make the most of it, for tonight." Dean quirked his eyebrows, to see what she thought of that. If Ellema had lied about STDs, he'd already caught it. Preventing an unwanted pregnancy, she seemed just as eager as he to avoid. Good. "C'm'ere," he rasped, wiggling closer. 

They were sweaty, sticky messes now and he still wanted her right there against him. Wow, unusual. Once he got off, Dean normally bolted for the door within ten minutes. He was staying the night, no question. Gathering her into his arms once more, he felt so comfortable in this fabulous bed, with Ellema, a passionate and needy – he loved that – partner. 

* * *

"I'll get tested," SHE promised solemnly. Dean didn't know that SHE couldn't get sick, and the promise would serve to make him feel better. For a moment, SHE felt deep regret that SHE couldn't tell him. A slight twitch of his eyes hinted that he might have caught something on HER face, and SHE hurried to reassure him by smiling widely as SHE pressed HER body against his, following his invitation. 

"Please believe me that I hadn't planned this." It wasn't a lie. SHE had wanted his seed, but letting him take HER bare hadn't been on HER agenda. "As you suggested, I'm beginning to recognize the positive aspect now, too. Tonight," SHE trailed HER hand down to his exhausted sex and let the power flow into him.

For a few minutes, SHE rested in his arms, content in his warm and gentle embrace, enjoying the blazing heat that ran just under the surface. "Some things are getting a little sticky here," SHE said tentatively. "I can't help wondering... should I lick you clean or show you my whirlpool?" Another lick at his ear made him shiver. "We need to do it on the stairs later, but have you been with a woman in a whirlpool before?"

* * *

Hm. Ellema's tone nagged at Dean, like she wasn't telling the whole truth. Despite having always played safe, Dean got himself tested every once in a while, to some degree because of long-standing concern over his 'other profession'. She wasn't going to get any diseases from Dean. He wondered if it was denial. A lot of guys his age got off on the Russian roulette of unprotected sex. Could be that, or that she believed him, or if she hadn't been with many men, the odds of infection were lower. Warm fingers over his junk put the thought to the back of his mind. He'd bring it up later again, or in the morning. 

How Ellema's bed cradled his body was amazing, just the right combination of soft and firm. The mattress molded around him slightly, like a very unobtrusive third party. Sleeping on it later was going to be almost as gratifying as the sex. 

"Whirlpool? Like a hot tub?" Dean perked up at the mention. But this would not be a first for him. "Actually... don't be too disappointed, but I have. And I'm a fan. If all this crusty spunk won't hurt it, I'm down with that." Already imagery of the two of them entwining their gleaming, wet limbs and other body parts galloped before his eyes. Letting go of her, Dean sat up. His dick twitched to life, too. He didn't mind it swinging as he walked – trying to do anything normal with a hard-on always smacked of the ridiculous. 

Now that he was on his feet, he inspected Ellema again. In the past, booze and horniness sometimes colored his judgment. Not this time – the woman's elegant physical beauty and poise were as evident sprawled stark naked and fucked out as earlier, dressed to the nines and flashing Benjamins. "Need a hand?" Dean held his out and smiled. 

The bathroom was just as impressive as the rest of the house, what little he'd seen. It was all furnished in tile and marble; the tub resembled a small lake, and the shower had five nozzles – five! – with flexible hoses... Did Ellema use them to bring herself off somehow? No wonder she was so clean. Slowly but surely, Dean was becoming immune to the shock value of the richness of it all and he stopped staring like some kid on his first trip to the strip club. While he didn't know what the second, oddly shaped sink-toilet-urinal thing was over by the real toilet he'd be damned if he'd ask. 

When he turned again, Ellema was bent over the side of the tub adjusting the water. Talk about pure porn! The view was entirely different from that of a man from the same angle, though the little puckered hole was the same. Watching her work unconscious of his study, Dean lazily stroked himself, though he needed no help getting it up. Those smooth long legs and rounded hips called to him, just like the curve of her back, hanging, swaying breasts, and pink flesh between her thighs. A woman's taint was much shorter, and then her pussy was right there, inviting him... Before he knew it, Dean was directly behind Ellema. He draped his body over hers and nudged her stance wider. "You want me to slide it into to you right here... Or do you wanna get in the tub first?" he growled. 

* * *

SHE laughed. "Why would I be disappointed that you've whirlpool experience? I'll still be your first on the stairs. Besides, you seem to have liked the whirlpool," SHE teased when he followed HER to the bathroom. Walking backward so SHE could watch him moving, SHE sighed contentedly. Dean really was a sight for sore eyes. There was something graceful in his moves, yet his strength couldn't be missed. Unlike most men SHE'd met over the millennia, he didn't appear to feel awkward being naked. There was a natural elegance to him that SHE interpreted as him being completely comfortable with his body. He was obviously proud, but it was a good type of pride, not arrogance, which SHE loathed in men.

Observing him closely, SHE found that SHE also liked the way in which he took in his surroundings. He was impressed, but not intimidated, accepting HER wealth and not begrudging it, at least not in any noticeable fashion. If their roles were reversed, SHE wasn't sure SHE'd be so generous.

Dean clearly knew that he was under scrutiny, and he returned the favor. SHE smiled and made sure he had a good look at HER body from all sides while SHE took care of the water pressure and temperature and found HERself pleased that he apparently didn't notice HER showing off. It didn't matter, though, SHE was as proud of HER body as he was of his.

When Dean stepped up behind HER and slid his erection against HER crack, SHE wasn't surprised. He was a fine, virile specimen even without HER secret 'assistance'. When he asked if SHE wanted him inside HER right now or get into the tub first, SHE replied, "Slide it right in and do me until you're almost there. Then we get in the tub and I'll ride you. See how long we can last."

* * *

"You got it." Pulling his hips back only enough so the tip his cock sought lower, drawn to heat, Dean rooted around while he kept his hands on Ellema's waist, thumbs in the middle of her back. She too grew sticky as their fluids began to dry, but he found his way into the still-slick, hot tunnel. Since they were close to the same height, he didn't have to adjust his stance or lift her, just let himself seek, find, and slide home. 

"Nnnngghh... Mmmwwraaaaoh!" Dean's initial whine of pleasure deepened and loudened into a moan. He paused after the initial stroke to trace the lines of her upper body while they stood, joined and bent forward. Ellema braced them both with her forearms on the edge of the tub; she pushed back and squeezed around his dick from the inside, like before. Rolling his hips, he found an angle that suited her, too, from the enthusiastic little gasps. 

When they'd done it missionary, Dean had been peripherally aware of her physical strength, of how she'd hung on to him as if her life depended on keeping him close, deep. Most women seemed fragile to him, like he'd break them if he wasn't careful. Some of that could be attributed to his training. John got in moods where he ordered endless calisthenics, and they all sparred hand-to-hand a few times a week. Every hunt he'd been on, things got rough. Monsters and spirits loved to toss people around. Just staying alive took fortitude. But with Ellema, Dean found he could grab and pull and bang away to his heart's content. Girl wasn't afraid of a few bruises. Panting and huffing against her back, Dean twisted his spine while he humped for all he was worth. With every thrust, his groin smacked her ass and his sac kissed her labia where she stretched around him. 

The two previous sessions did wonders for his control – Dean felt like he could go for hours like this, hard and powerful within her depths. Little experimental shifts showed him where Ellema's hot spot must be – yeah, he'd heard about that. He was leaking with the need to hit it and hit it, so she'd explode around him like never before in her life, not that he'd know. Instead of speeding up, Dean decreased to a languid pace. "Wantchu to feel every inch of me... Feels so good," he murmured, pulling back so slow he could feel the small fluttering veins along his shaft slip through her grip, out, then in again. God, he hoped it felt as good for her, bare dick inside her tight walls, nudging her closer and closer. 

"I'm the one who's gotta worry about... 'Almost there'. You... C'n have as many as you want..." Dean rammed back into her with all his strength then, just once, howling in pleasure. No, he wasn't dangerously close yet. The effort of holding back the next few unhurried in-and-out moves made him shake. Then he noticed that Ellema trembled too, new sweat sheening her back, and he grinned to himself. "Gimme one, come around me now," Dean whispered into her neck, biting her shoulder, though not hard enough to break the skin. 

* * *

When he shoved inside HER, SHE almost swooned. Although SHE'd encountered his strength before, his girth hurt – so good! And he didn't go slowly, no, Dean went for it like a drowning man grasping for a life buoy, burying him inside HER to the hilt with a single firm push.

"Yes, give it to me," SHE hissed, holding on to the rim of the tub with all HER strength. "Harder," SHE challenged him and he obliged immediately. If their previous coupling had been a dance, this one was a fight choreographed by their bodies straining for the ultimate release. SHE pushed back, hard, taking him in deeper with each of his thrusts. The power between them was incredible. He wanted HER to feel every inch of him? Heck, SHE felt every millimeter of him, spreading HER wide, pushing all HER buttons at once, making HER howl with pleasure. Never before had SHE had even an inkling what a male could do to HER!

And it got better. He bit her shoulder and _ordered_ HER to let it go for him. Even more surprising than his impudence was the fact that SHE immediately obeyed. Screaming and writhing while HER body got out of control and shuddered and clenched around him, SHE came. Then came again. And again. 

Eventually, SHE couldn't muster the tension any longer and HER body went limp, still held firmly in his hands. SHE was sure SHE'd develop bruises on HER hips despite any advantage HER body held over an ordinary female.

"Dean, Dean, you're the one," SHE whispered, unable to stop HERself. "The only one, and we will worship you forever."

* * *

Holy crap, the woman was a screamer! Used to thin walls in cheap motels and dumpy apartments, Dean's alertness twinged in apprehension before be remembered just where they were: in a house built like a fortress at least a half mile from anyone. What else could he do but enjoy the hell out of it? Almost giggling in a combination of relief and sexual joy, Dean fucked her through it with little restraint to hear all the yowling and caterwauling, as if she were in heat. Ellema's body convulsed, rippled around him inside, then went limp in his grip. Totally out of it, she hissed and muttered under her breath; he caught his name and something further he chose to ignore. 

For both their sakes, Dean stopped before they lost all balance. It would be easier in the water, with the buoyancy to mitigate the effort of prolonged repetitive motion. "Let's get in there," he suggested. "And you can ride me." Quickly, before the urge to remain coupled made him do anything stupid like try to carry her dead weight and slip, he pulled out, hissing at cool air wicking at their juices and the wet smack of his prick against his belly. Holding on to Ellema so she wouldn't collapse, he helped her step all wobbly-legged into the bubbling tub and sit down. Next, Dean swung one leg over the side; the water was steaming hot and all of a sudden he felt concern for his little swimmers, which would be cooked at such a temperature. So silly – it wasn't like he was trying to knock her up! 

Once he got acclimated to the heat, he had to admit it felt damned nice. Wiggling around, he found that there were jets built into the seat and the sides of the tub. Yes, they'd been mid-coitus and Ellema had proved herself a wild, voracious woman, but he just had to get himself positioned first... He felt so naughty settling his butt directly over a jet. The stream of bubbles and hot water tickled his hole and up his crack. Blinking half-blind at the incredible sensation, Dean spread his thighs and shifted his pelvis till some of it escaped forward across his sac. It was crazy, how much he loved it! He could almost come from that, only it made him so horny he had to get with Ellema again... _now!_

Had she noticed? Dean blushed from hairline to sternum over a girl – anyone – seeing him turned on by ass-play of any type. She'd have to notice his massive erection! Even under water the red-purple presence was impossible to overlook. "Need you now," he urged, holding out both hands. 

* * *

No man had _ever_ made HER lose it like Dean just had. How he'd managed to hold back was a miracle to HER, but SHE wasn't going to question what they called a 'gift horse'. If SHE believed in gods – wouldn't that be ironic? – SHE'd thank them for sending Dean to HER. As it was, SHE could only hold on to him as long as it lasted and then cherish the memory.

He pulled out, and SHE already missed him, but it was a necessity if they wanted to get into the tub without breaking any bones. SHE could see him swallowing a few times, a clear sign of how much he was salivating, which made HER glow with pride that SHE was the origin of his desire.

His strong hands held HER as he guided HER boneless body into the tub. SHE sank down into the scalding water with a sigh, which was both relief at being off HER legs and apprehension to feeling him inside HER again in a minute. Dean joined HER, hissing at the heat and moving tentatively at first, but when he sat down and wiggled around, he looked at ease.

Almost at ease, that was. SHE wondered how much of the blush on his marvelous body was due to the steam and how much due to the fact that he was sitting right on top of one of the jets. SHE made a note to explore this later. Right now, it was time for HER to keep HER promise.

Dean hadn't forgotten what SHE'd announced earlier either. His urgent _"Need you now"_ was nothing more than a mere statement of fact. He was huge! SHE'd heard many men refer to their two-inch jokes of a dick as 'phallus', but Dean's member really merited that expression, every inch of it.

SHE moved quickly so that his hands were on HER hips again. Already, SHE could feel the bruises forming from being manhandled earlier, and SHE relished the pain, clear proof of his need and strength. He didn't linger but pushed HER down firmly on his massive erection, sliding in to the hilt with a moan that went straight to HER core and awoke HER passion anew, regardless of how exhausted SHE'd been only a few seconds ago.

"Fuck me," SHE hissed into his ear and bit down, "as hard as you can and as long as you can. And then do it again, until your balls ache from shooting dust. Fuck me as if this was the last chance for sex in our lives."

* * *

Dean wondered how he was to accomplish that without drowning her. 'As hard as he could, as long as he could', when she had straddled him and impaled herself? Ellema was strong and fit, but not a small woman that he could just hang off his dick. Well, Dean would take that challenge, and let her just try to keep up! 

"The last time we have sex... The last time I do it raw," he informed her, "so I'm going to enjoy every single time I stick it in you as deep as it goes," he jabbed upward into her, "then deeper. Been a while since I fucked till I came dry... " Soothing water or not, Ellema had an almost pained expression on her face, and he wondered if she was sore. "Hurts so good," he groaned, bucking his hips. Dean didn't know if that was for himself or her. They'd just have to deal with it later. Right now, he wanted to get off. "Mmmph, god yeah!" 

Slippery under water where they were in up to mid-chest, Dean couldn't get much leverage. Their skin slid together, Ellema's plush breasts mashed against his chest because he clasped her as tight around the waist with one arm as he could, the other on her ass to guide her up and down on his cock; the erect, mahogany-dark nipples scraped between his own. Dean was panting, not only from the heat and steam. He'd been starting to get close prior to their descent into the tub, and now, with Ellema's dirty talk spurring him on, stimulated by the tease against his ass, Dean needed release – bad. The tendons of his thighs and groin tightened. His balls, too, the ducts tingling as they readied themselves to spew. 

Their rutting churned the water, Ellema's long, wet hair floating on it. Above the waterline, sweat ran down their faces and necks. "Gonna..." Dean warned, pushing with as much force as he could muster. Just a few more harsh thrusts... There! Maybe with Sam he'd have screamed his release but instead he shook his way through, burying his face in Ellema's neck and sucking a mark into the skin pulsing over her carotid. 

* * *

Again, Dean didn't disappoint HER. The logistics were a little awkward in the water, but he was a natural and he figured out immediately how to get off. Still sated, SHE took HER pleasure from watching him, the shudders running through his body and the fierce expression on his face when he got closer. 

Then, he pulled HER upper body against his and started reaming HER for real. Belatedly, SHE thought that SHE'd have loved to play with his nipples, but that would have to wait until the next time. SHE was already looking forward to it.

It didn't take long until Dean pressed out a warning, and then he was there, rutting like a wild animal, pushing in so deep SHE thought SHE could taste him in HER mouth. He was quiet as he shook through his release, and SHE held him close – while he sucked hard on HER neck. Nobody had ever marked HER before, but SHE found it surprisingly arousing.

When Dean had emptied himself, SHE held him through the aftershocks and gently kissed his face. Struggling for breath, he looked younger than 19. Maybe he was too exhausted to keep his emotions off his face. SHE liked that but had a feeling he wouldn't want to be seen as vulnerable, so SHE backed off a little.

"I'm ravenous," SHE announced. "Do you think it could have to do with our recent physical activity?" SHE winked. "I have a couple of steaks with our names on them in the fridge. Will you join me for a midnight dinner?"

* * *

Perhaps because it was the third time, or because Ellema was so... hungry for it, for him, Dean took what felt like days to descend from the plateau following his mind- and ball-emptying climax. He'd observed many times how, as a typical male, once he came his libido dived to zero before he caught his breath, although it never took long before he was ready again. Women, by contrast, experienced a prolonged period of heightened sensation and afterglow that went on for minutes. His and Ellema's roles reversed, and she seemed just as aware of it; it made him more conscious of their difference in age and circumstance, he struggled to gather his wits. 

The offer of food finally cut through the weird vibe. Dean was definitely hungry, not having had supper, then drinking on a mostly empty stomach, not to mention the amounts of energy he'd burned through tonight so far. "Oh yeah, I could use some fuel, thanks." He smiled up at Ellema, who was still straddling his lap, and kissed her. Then his stomach decided to growl loud enough they could hear it over the bubbles and swirling water, and he snorted. "Agreement from below." 

* * *

SHE raised HER eyebrows and laughed. "Good. I was beginning to think you weren't human." SHE moved off his lap and stood, not in the least embarrassed of showing him HER naked body. "I promised you the grand tour after the bedroom. Do I understand it right, then, that we should start in the kitchen?" 

* * *

"Oh, I'm all human," Dean countered, standing. Water ran off his body, and he made sure to straighten up as confidently as Ellema had. "And you're all woman," he added as he let his eyes drag up her body. Thighs to crotch, with the feminine triangle of raven curls, the hourglass shape she personified lingering on her erect nipples, and finally Dean looked into her eyes. "You're incredible, you know that? I'll admit I've been with a lot of women, too many, probably, but I've never met anyone like you." 

There was a sheet-sized dark blue towel spread out on the floor next to the whirlpool. Dean stepped out onto it and curled his toes into the thick pile. More matching towels hung on a bar nearby – he lifted one for himself and held the other out to Ellema. He could stare at her wet and naked all night, but the rest of the house might not be as warm. Once he'd scrubbed the terrycloth over his skin and hair, he wrapped it around his waist. He'd dress if Ellema did, but she seemed comfortable with her nakedness. "Ready. So... You know what to do with meat in the bedroom. I can't wait to see how you do in the kitchen." He grinned again, and winked, to soften the chauvinism. Mostly he just liked the 'meat' pun. "Lead the way."

* * *

Despite being proud of HER body, SHE found HERself almost shy by Dean's compliment. It was more than just the recognition of HER physical attributes, SHE mused, and if it had been long time since SHE'd had sex, SHE couldn't even remember the last time a man had told HER something nice that referred to HER as a person.

"Thank you," SHE said. "As you may have guessed from my previous ramblings, the feeling's mutual. Although I haven't recently been with anyone, I've encountered my fair share of... _douchebags,_ I think is the word," SHE added dryly.

Dean stepped out of the tub and toweled off after handing HER a towel, too. "These," SHE pointed to the thick, fluffy cloth in HER hands, "come from my home country. Egyptian cotton. I love the way it caresses my skin," SHE smiled. "And now I love it even more for the way it hugs your body."

HER smile widened when he mentioned meat. "Let me show you, then." Reaching for a silk robe, SHE explained, "I don't have close neighbors so being naked is fine, but I prefer to protect my skin when I'm in the kitchen. I like you in your towel, however, you're my guest and my people put a high value on hospitality, so please let me know if you'd like one of these, too."

* * *

Grease burns on that gorgeous, unflawed skin? Dean had a few of those on his arms and plenty of other scars all over. While he couldn't describe Ellema as delicate, she shouldn't be marred. Should be preserved. He just nodded. "I hear yah. Got a few burns, cooking, myself, before I learned my way around a kitchen. It was always my job to keep myself and my brother fed." 

The offer of a robe like that tempted him too much to turn down. "You keep stuff like that around for dudes?" he winked. Just glad Sam couldn't see him and never let him live down putting on something so girly, Dean accepted what Ellema held out. In fact, he turned and let her help him into it, almost scared he'd snag the fine material with all his scars, calluses, rough elbows and knees. Her hands smoothed it over his shoulders, warm and familiar. For the first time, Dean truly felt that they connected in some manner beyond lust and mutual appreciation of the other's physical beauty. "Thanks, Ellema," he murmured.

Even the shirt Dean still thought of as 'the hooker shirt' that his dad had spent good money on felt nothing like this. Ellema had spoken of cotton towels caressing her – this was like the most teasing full body massage ever, like fingertips all over. Before long, the brush of the silky cloth against his legs and especially his junk would have him all hot and ready again – which was just as well after three times already. 

After belting the slippery garment in place as best he could, Dean followed Ellema downstairs, to a kitchen which of course had the latest appliances, even he knew that. Everything gleamed in brushed chrome and oiled wood, but the overall affect was warm. A knife block sat by the cooktop; pots and pans, some with copper finish, hung from an overhead metal rack, but otherwise the place was neat and tidy with everything put away. The microwave was built in to the cupboards. Everywhere Dean had lived, whatever kitchen appliances like toasters or blenders they had came with the rent and cluttered counters. He stood against the counter near the sink, out of the way. "Let me know if you want me to do anything," he offered. 

* * *

Dean accepted a robe and followed HER downstairs to the kitchen, offering his help.

"I'll let you know when I need a hand," SHE said and smiled again. How long had it been since SHE'd smiled so much, SHE kept asking HERself. Meeting Dean, maybe it was fate finally acknowledging HER sacrifice. But even if he was HERs only for a single night, SHE was also his, and the memory of them together would keep HER soul warm for a long time.

"Would you open a bottle of Champagne for me? If you prefer a less girly drink," SHE winked, "my liquor cabinet holds a 30-year-old single malt, but I like a glass of bubbly now and then."

SHE pointed him to the cupboard with glasses and leaned against the kitchen counter with a marble top. "After we share a toast, my next 'real' job," SHE indicated quotation marks, "for you comes when the steaks go into the pan or onto the grill. Until then, there is, however something you can do for me." 

HER eyes glittered with mischief. "You can stay in the kitchen and admire me."

* * *

"I'd go for some of that Scotch." After beer, it topped Dean's drink of choice list thanks to his dad. John drank the cheapest swill offered by any local liquor store. Considering that even it took away from basic necessities, Dean was grateful for that, if not about how his dad would have been the town drunk had they stayed anywhere long enough to become residents. His own hypocrisy wasn't lost on him; he considered booze a coping mechanism. Gee, wonder where he'd learned that. 

Ellema meant it as celebratory, and she could certainly afford it. His family secrets weren't her problem. "I'll get you some of your bubbly stuff..." And he crossed the room to the cabinet she pointed out, seeking out what he hoped where the correct bottles. Her champagne was the real deal; luckily he'd seen enough old movies and soaps he knew about popping the cork, and took the bottle to the sink to avoid making a mess. From the same reruns, he'd learned the correct type of glass for the drink, congratulating himself as the bright liquid frothed into a narrow flute. The Scotch was easy: rocks glass, double shot, neat. The glass wasn't actually glass, though. The heavy, almost oily feel and shine told Dean he was handling expensive crystal. 

Ellema had been busy with their late night snack. Now some of the cupboard doors hung open, and spice jars and shakers lined up haphazardly next to the broiler pan. "Admiring you now," he quipped. Approaching with both glasses Dean waited close by so she would see and feel his presence and watched her work. He was used to common salt, rather than the sea salt she used, and ground black pepper, rather than the variety of peppercorns. Some of her spices were not labeled; he assumed they were homemade blends. Her method of preparation was economic, no wasted movements, no trial and error. "Whatever rudimentary cooking skills I didn't teach myself, I learned from my dad and... a family friend. Neither of them is anything less than a tornado in the kitchen," he mused. "Look at you – no mess at all!" 

When she had finished, he held out her champagne. "Now we have to toast," he remembered her earlier sentiment. They'd already toasted themselves and the night, back at the bar. "To... the beginning of something new... And good meat!" he chuckled, clinking the rim of his glass against hers. Because of their lives, Dean had never had a steady girlfriend, probably never would. For the past almost two years, up until a month ago, he'd had Sam any time they could manage it, never enough but always incredible. The closest thing to a girlfriend he'd had, Nicole, he doubted he'd ever see again: after Sam's birthday, she'd been disgusted with him and Dean just didn't do that scene. He might be a slut by some people's standards, not that he cared, but Dean still craved love, attention, and caring besides sex and fun. Ellema might be the one. 

* * *

SHE prepared the food while Dean took care of the drinks. As SHE had expected, he was more a Scotch man than a Champagne fan – which was fine, as it left more Champagne for HER. Laughing at his comments on cooking, SHE replied, "If I make a mess, I have to clean it eventually. Don't you agree that the two of us scrubbing the kitchen would be far less pleasurable than doing other things?" SHE batted HER eyelids.

"Thanks," SHE said when SHE accepted the Champagne flute from his hand, making sure that their fingers touched. "To good meat," SHE smiled. "Yes, I'll definitely drink to that!" SHE raised HER glass and drank, arching HER neck so he could watch HER swallowing. "Mmh, I can't wait for the meat," SHE beamed at Dean, "but I still think we should eat first."

SHE set HER half-empty glass on the counter. "Would you like to broil the steaks? You're the only man I'd trust with that."

* * *

"Oh, yeah?" Had Dean missed something earlier? How many men could she be she referring to? Not that it was any of his business. "OK, then, I'll do the honors. In the oven, or do you have a grill nearby?"

Plenty of mellow light lit the kitchen. Probably to save on the electric bill, the other rooms downstairs remained dark. Having not seem them or out their windows yet, Dean didn't know if there was an outdoor patio or deck, or maybe a covered structure. He'd cooked with gas and electric stoves, and outside with charcoal; he was confident he could manage. Plucking a big metal spatula from the drawer in front of him that he'd seen Ellema rummage in, he brandished it with one hand and a pair of tongs with the other, snapping them open and closed a couple times. He knew he was grinning like an idiot or a little kid but he didn't care. 

* * *

Dean sounded surprised when SHE mentioned men. SHE'd better watch HER tongue if SHE didn't want to make him suspicious.

"Most men I have to deal with are lecherous old creeps," SHE said, turning serious. "Egyptian culture these days doesn't value women very much, and there isn't too much of a difference between American and Egyptian art collectors. No, wait, that's not right," SHE corrected HERself. "Whereas both are sleazy and condescending scumbags, there's way, way more corruption when it comes to my compatriots." SHE snorted in disgust, then looked at Dean.

"I'm rich. You don't want to know the price I pay for that. Oh, they don't get to touch me, but sometimes I feel as if I can never get far way enough from the filth that surrounds them. That's why I don't feel guilty for what I charge them for my expertise in Egyptian artifacts. They pay me because they know there's no one better in the field, but they don't respect me."

SHE paused. It hadn't been HER intention to speak up and complain, just this was the first time SHE thought somebody – Dean – cared enough to listen. On the other hand, SHE didn't want to ruin their date.

"Sorry," SHE said. "Sometimes my mouth runs away with me, but I'm done ranting now." SHE smiled. "You asked about the grill. These steaks are from Argentina. They deserve charcoal. It'd be a little chilly in the garden, but I had a part of my terrace converted into a greenhouse. There's a grill there, unless you prefer a frying pan in the kitchen. Oh, and no worries about being spotted by neighbors. This place is very secluded."

* * *

Ah, so finally Ellema revealed something about herself. Listening, Dean nodded at the appropriate times. He also agreed, more in sign language than anything, to grilling the steaks outside, and he followed her out to the glassed-in terrace. He had no experience with ancient Egyptian artifacts. If, during a hunt, John dug up anything tangible, it was often a keepsake left behind by the dead tethering the spirit to Earth, that had to be destroyed to release them. Or, and these could be nasty: cursed objects, hex bags, implements for casting spells. Nothing so old, though, maybe a few hundred years at most. Bobby had a veritable museum-slash-archive of stuff like that all warded and locked up, and the most dusty old books he'd seen outside a real library. 

Hunting was a male-dominated field, too, although his mom and grandmother had both been hunters and he'd heard of a few others. He wished he could compare stories with Ellema, but didn't dare. She'd never believe him anyway. Instead, he fell back on his cover story. 

"All the mechanics I've ever met were men, and I know a lot of them will rip women off for not knowing their way around an engine. Like you said, no respect. Sucks that it's like that. All I can do is be fair, myself. Sounds as if you're learned to work the system. Did you go to university for that? Do you have a Masters?" She was young for that: could be she'd been a prodigy. Rather than whine or fall into '20 Questions', Dean redirected. "My car's a she, and I respect her more than just about anything." 

OK, maybe that was a little strange, but he was proud of his Baby. Ellema must feel the same about something, her own car or this place. Dean would be bursting at the seams it he owned a place like this. 

Setting the plate on a side table, Dean laid a hearth like he'd been taught: a pyramid shaped pile of briquettes, a squirt of accelerant, and light it up. Then he realized... "Uh, got a lighter? Or matches?" His own Zippo was upstairs in his jeans. 

* * *

SHE listened intently when Dean spoke. He didn't say much, but his body language told HER that there was much left unsaid. SHE wouldn't pry, though. He didn't seem the type that divulged anything about himself except for an outer layer, a mask for the public. Although SHE didn't know his reasons, SHE was very familiar with the concept.

Picking up a box of long matches from a small shelf, SHE held them out for Dean. "Light my fire, Babe." He'd laid a neat kindling and SHE watched him as he turned away from HER to focus on his task. 

"I was home-schooled by my parents. They were both archaeologists and met on a dig in Egypt, my father was an Egyptian and my mother from the US." It was good that he wasn't looking at HER because SHE had to lie to him. SHE wished SHE could be open and honest, but that just wasn't possible as SHE hadn't sprung from parents.

"After they passed, one of their former colleagues offered me a job on a project in academia." SHE smiled. "It got me a Ph.D. in archeology. I'm not flounting it, but the degree gives me the 'official'," SHE grimaced, "credence of my knowledge. Simply being good at one's work apparently doesn't count. Anyways, since I was at University I thought I'd get an MBA at the same time. It worked out as I'd hoped. I was still at the archaeological lab when I was asked to consult on artifacts, and that's how it all began."

SHE stood behind him and admired how the silk hugged his backside. It took an effort not to touch him, but SHE knew SHE'd have more opportunity to explore his body later.

"I don't know much about cars," SHE admitted, "but I hope you'll stay overnight so you can introduce me to her in the morning." Another smile spread on HER face. "I'm not talking about the earlier type of introduction." SHE kissed his neck.

"If you spend so much time on the road, it makes a lot of sense to me to treat your car with respect," SHE offered. "Did you go to school or did your father teach you? And what about your brother?"

He'd mentioned that his brother was a 'kid', which meant there was a chance he was enrolled in a local school. That, in turn meant there was a chance Dean would be in town for a while. SHE liked the idea.

* * *

Dean coughed a laugh and struck a match. The charcoal pile lit, he spent a couple of minutes making sure all the pieces caught. Home schooled, then straight to MBA and Ph.D? Something about that strained credulity, but Dean declined to call Ellema out on it, not in her own home when she was being so good to him. She came near again, really near, and kissed his neck. 

"Once in the car was enough," Dean had to agree. He preferred his movements to be less restricted. "Your bed's amazing. And huge. Even the back seat is nowhere near as comfortable." Deciding the fire was banked enough, he plopped the thick steaks on the grill, and they sizzled a little, smelling delicious immediately. "Yeah, my Baby's carried us through a lot... She was Dad's, he gave me her a couple of years back. Everything I know about fixing cars, I learned from him or on my own. Maybe I shouldn't tell you this Ms. Highly Educated but I dropped out of high school, got a GED instead." Shrugging, he didn't try to explain it. "School was boring. Sam loves it, though. Takes his mind off... things. And no, he's not into cars at all."

Before she could ask about what things were bothering Sam, Dean turned around and pulled her close, laying kisses on her lips. 

* * *

SHE kissed him back. These were slow, gentle, intimate kisses, very unlike the passion they'd unleashed earlier, and yet SHE enjoyed them at least as much. 

Soon – too soon – they broke apart. Dean turned toward the grill and SHE lined HER body up against his from behind. "Just making sure you didn't get me wrong," SHE murmured into his hair. He smelled clean although they'd just had a quick rinse after their sojourn in the hot tub. "I wouldn't say that once in the car – _your_ car – was enough. What I meant is more along the lines that I hope we won't be able to get it up in the morning." SHE kissed his neck. "The night is only just beginning, you know." He shuddered a little, and SHE could feel the newly awakening interest of his body even from standing behind him. 

"I like talking with you," SHE admitted. "And I want to know more about you. For the record, I may be highly educated about my stuff but I know next to nothing about cars. In my understanding, my PhD doesn't count more than your GED. Besides, you speak like an educated person and from what you've said so far I read that you're more intelligent than average. And you're open-minded and interested in all topics we've broached tonight, not only our bodies."

SHE smiled. "Although you – and I – were and are pretty interested in that, too. Anyway, I'm rambling. What matters for me right now is that I'm incredibly happy to be here with you, Dean."

* * *

"Well, I don't know about you, but I almost always wake up with morning wood!" Dean chuckled again, inspecting the steaks' progress while Ellema leaned into him. He lifted one side, saw it wasn't seared yet, and slid the spatula back. "Unless you kill my manhood tonight yet, whatever time we wake up should see 'him' risen, too. In fact, 'he' might make an appearance again soon." It wasn't like Dean ran around sporting wood constantly. He'd had to learn how to control the thing, like any other dude. The silk robe rubbing across his cock especially the head with every move was going to catch up with him. 

The semi-religious overtone of the words combined with innuendo made him blush, and he was glad Ellema couldn't see his face. Blushing wasn't very manly, and it made him look all splotchy thanks to the freckles. The heat from the burning coals also flushed Dean's face while Ellema's soft warmth soaked into his skin through the two layers of silk, from behind. So far, there was some twitching going on below the belt, not much else yet but hey, they'd fucked like bunnies three times and even 19-year-olds needed to recover. "So how do you like your meat, and I mean the steak this time: bloody, medium, or well-done?" 

He listened, not sure how to respond to her comments. No one had really ever said that to him, not girls, certainly not his dad. Bobby was good to them but sort of gruff. Sam, well, Sammy talked about touchy-feely stuff but it was different, because they'd known each other Sam's whole life. "Well, Ramble On is one of my favorite songs," he finally replied. "So that's cool." Then it was time to flip their dinner. His mouth watered again, and his stomach made its grumbling presence known, too. "Dunno how smart I am. Sam's the brains in our family. One thing I do know: This is great," Dean finally summed it up. "I'm glad we hooked up. I mean, this isn't just a hook-up, you know?" He wasn't even sure, himself; that was his gut reaction. 

It didn't take much longer, and they were done. "Do we eat out here or in the house?" he asked. Maybe it was a silly question, since it was approaching midnight. "Doesn't matter to me, I'm starving!" 

* * *

"Well, I don't usually wake up with morning wood, but I'm happy to hear that tomorrow I will – wake with _your_ morning wood. And no, I have no intention to kill your manhood. If anything, I'd boost it." SHE said it in a teasing tone of voice, but it was the truth. HER touch had that power. In contrast to earlier, when SHE'd caressed his balls to infuse them with it, SHE now felt reluctant to use HER energy. He'd flipped a switch in HER to the effect that SHE wanted to be a 'normal' human female when SHE was with him.

Dean's question how SHE liked HER meat pulled HER out of HER musing. "I'm a carnivore," SHE chuckled, "so I'll have mine rare, please." Again, SHE took pleasure in watching him handle the food. 

"Maybe we should better eat inside," SHE suggested when he'd finished cooking. "That's where the drinks are and it's warmer there, too. As much as I enjoy basking in your heat," SHE winked, "there's a time for that and there's a time for food."

SHE led the way to HER dining room, which he hadn't seen yet. Its design was elegant but plain, and the chairs and table were comfortable rather than stylish. Dean set the plates down on the table, then he followed HER to the kitchen where they picked up cutlery. SHE also took two beers from the fridge, to which Dean didn't object; steaks and beer simply belonged together.

It was only when they sat at the table that SHE met his eyes and answered his earlier question. "I would very much like this to be more than a hook-up," SHE confirmed sincerely. "I can't tell the future, what with both of us spending so much time on the road, but this night will count as eternity for me."

* * *

"It's warm here in front of the grill; maybe not so much away from it." Dean followed Ellema back inside. She moved with grace, sinuous, a longer torso than most women thanks to her height. Beneath the flimsy silk, her hips swayed in a not-so-subtle invitation; Dean couldn't keep his eyes off. By the time they'd arrived in the dining room with eating utensils, he was sure she'd notice the groin-level swelling under the front of his robe. 

Trying to ignore it, Dean pulled out Ellema's chair for her, then sat himself. He doubted she was the praying kind. "Thanks for all... this," he directed at her instead, waving a hand to indicate the food, the house, everything. "And for the option to do it again." He waggled his eyebrows and picked up his fork and knife. "What do you mean, this night will count as eternity? It won't last forever. Look, even if we never see each other again, you won't have a problem finding men, you want to." He let his eyes speak his appraisal and admiration once again. 

* * *

"What I mean is that we should treasure the moment, not ruin it by worrying about a future that may or may not come to pass. We are here tonight, and that's what counts." Heat rose in HER as SHE spoke. HER future, if HER plan succeeded, was a steady decline beginning tonight. Yet, SHE wanted it. For the rest of HER life, SHE would cherish the memory of this night with Dean, regardless what came after.

However, if SHE voiced HER thoughts, Dean would run and SHE wouldn't even have the memory of a single night with him, so SHE smiled. "I didn't want to ruin the evening with gloomy philosophy, so I apologize. Also, let's not spoil the meal we put so much effort in."

SHE raised HER beer bottle and grinned. "This is not very classy, I'm afraid, but I'm toasting the chef. To you, Dean."

* * *

A lot of the women Dean had been with were as promiscuous as he was. Along with that came a certain distance, an unspoken agreement that feelings and 'philosophy' wouldn't enter the mix of lust and release. That Ellema didn't display that jaded mechanism charmed Dean, shivered him inside if not outside. He knew better than to encourage it. She could have a life here. In or near a city the size of Colorado Springs, upscale and growing as it was, she fit into the culture. The Winchesters would move on as they always did, more typically sticking to small towns, backroads, run-down motels and dusty bars that smelled like stale beer and smoke. Still, it was so nice to be in a totally opposite environment, no matter how temporary, with a woman who need never know a reason to suspect every word. 

"To you, too," Dean echoed, taking a long draft of his beer. Then they dug into the food. "For however long." He glanced around, fishing for something as a prompt to change the subject. 

One thing he noticed, Ellema handled her silverware differently. Being right-handed, he cut with that hand but then transferred his fork to it to take a bite, and then back again. Ellema didn't – she kept her silverware in the same hands, throughout. Somewhere along the line, maybe in some junior high history class, he'd heard from an over-eager student teacher he vaguely recalled, that was the European way. She'd said she'd traveled... "What countries have you been to?" he asked. 

* * *

Dean ate with the same vigor he'd shown during sex. SHE liked that, but it also made HER feel a little wistful: it was usually older people who embraced the whole of their lives in this depth. The few younger individuals SHE'd met who'd thrown themselves into this depth of sensual experience had often been terminally ill. Dean looked healthy, but there was something about him that made HER wonder if he expected to die young. The thought made HER heart ache, but maybe HER powers could help here.

They drank and when he switched to the topic of traveling, SHE was happy to go along. "What countries have I been to," SHE repeated the question. "Let me think. If a place has a significant historical meaning, I've probably been there. Egyptology is my specialty, but I've always been curious. History is much more interesting when you put things in context, and I was lucky that first my parents took me along on digs, and later my advisors gave me opportunities to travel, not only to sites but also to conferences and other schools."

SHE cut off another piece of steak and chewed it. The meat was tender and almost melted on HER tongue. 

"I've been to Egypt and most neighboring countries. It's my home soil, in a manner of speaking, but not my first choice for residence. Let's just say some of my visits were pretty 'interesting' in the sense of the Chinese curse." SHE chuckled, but there wasn't much humor in it. 

"Then, I've spent time in Europe, mostly the UK and Germany. Both have a number of University institutes with a long tradition in Egyptian archeology. In South America, I've managed to visit Machu Picchu, but that's about it. And, of course, I've been all over the US. I actually own an apartment in New York, close to the Institute of Fine Arts, and another one near Monterey so I can long term consult both in Berkeley and L.A."

After taking another bite, SHE cocked HER head and looked at Dean. "Since you also travel a lot... I wonder how often we may have been at the same place before without meeting."

* * *

Ellema's childhood and beyond sounded like a dream, the good kind. She must have so many memories and stories. 

"That all sounds... incredible. Do you have any pictures, if you don't mind showing them? I can only imagine. And it's nothing like my so-called traveling. Now I understand why your parents home-schooled you. Having to switch schools every few weeks or months was – still is for Sam – the story of our lives." Dean had another bite, nearly done already – he'd been really hungry! "My brother and I grew up on the road, but only in the States. I've been to most, or through them on the way to somewhere else. Baby's more home than anywhere we've stayed since I was four. We've been through Colorado before, so it's possible we might have coincided. Before this we were in Arizona a short time, before that, eastern South Dakota, and before that, near the Kansas-Oklahoma border. A lot of Dad's work – now mine, too – seems to take us into the South and the Midwest." He didn't add that people were more superstitious and set in their ways, and the population generally sparser than East or West Coast. All of that added up to more family secrets, hoodoo, monsters hiding out, and other freaky stuff. "I've never been to New York City. The closest to it was Buffalo. Do you go there often?" 

* * *

"I have pictures," SHE replied. "Of places, not of people, and I can show you some later, if you want." SHE'd have to make sure anything SHE showed him was of the correct period, but most of the older things were packed up in boxes anyway.

"I like the South, however, it's not as high on my agenda," SHE smiled, "because there aren't so many academic institutions in my field down there. I do some consulting for private collectors, too, though, and that brings me all over the States, including the South and Midwest."

SHE interrupted HERself to eat another bite, a little disappointed to find HER plate already empty. "Do you like ice cream? Or pie? I feel like dessert."

* * *

Okay, so Ellema didn't want to disclose much. Fair was fair; Dean hadn't been forthcoming either, as he'd been trained. Perhaps her field had some need for secrecy or confidentiality, too. Obviously an exchange of money, a lot of money, was involved, if 'consulting' bought a place like this. 

All that flew from his mind at her next suggestion. "Pie? I love pie! Ala mode's good, too. What kind do you have?" He hadn't seen it in her kitchen. 

* * *

"There's apple and cherry pie. They're in another fridge," SHE explained. "I like my bubbly and beer cooler than my desserts. So which would you prefer? Or maybe," SHE cocked HER head and winked, "we should make this easier and have a piece of both? And since beer and pie don't go well together, should we add to the decadence and have freshly-brewed cappuccino with it? Or Irish coffee?"

* * *

Would wonders never cease? Coffee, too, no doubt the very best. Dean wasn't hungry any more but he was salivating again. "Irish... I think there might be some Irish roots in my family tree. I'll never say no to good whiskey, or pie." Dean pushed his chair back and stood. First he made sure that his slippery robe hadn't exposed him. They'd both seen him – each other – very naked, but it would be silly to walk around with his junk showing. Once he'd retied the belt, Dean picked up his empty plate, set the silverware on it, and grabbed his beer bottle. Ellema had done the same, and they returned to the kitchen. For a second, he felt the vague disorientation of deja vu, then decided it was just from earlier. "You are totally spoiling me. At this rate, you might not be able to get rid of me." 

* * *

"Good!" SHE beamed. "Then my plan works. Getting rid of you is the last thing I want."

SHE took the plate and silverware from his hands and stowed them in the dishwasher together with HERs. "The empty bottles go in the box under the sink." SHE put HER bottle there and closed the cupboard door after Dean had added his.

"How about we split the work again? The pies are in the fridge to your right, and the ice cream in the freezer next to it. Would you," SHE grinned, "load the plates while I look after the coffee?"

* * *

"Sure." The coffee machine was new and fancy, like what he'd seen in the cafes Sam had recently developed a taste for, with their gleaming parts, mysterious nozzles and little pots for steaming milk and such. "I'd need to take a class to operate that thing," he grinned. "Pie and ice cream, I know what to do with." 

The fridge-freezer was a SubZero, another amenity Dean had only heard of. Huge and chrome, the doors swung outwards from the middle, with glass shelves inside and various sized cubbies in the doors. Untouched and flaky and golden-crusted, the pies rested on a middle shelf. The ice cream was good old vanilla, the best with pie. After cutting them each a slice of apple and a slice of cherry and transferring them to plates, Dean found what looked like a cross between a dildo and an ice cream scoop in the utensil drawer. He could feel his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "What the fuck do you call this thing?" he giggled as he brandished it in one fist. "Do I use it to dig out ice cream or produce more... cream?" 

It was so lewd, but Dean was no good at controlling his impulses at the best of times, and less when he was buzzed. Showing his teeth, he made a couple of thrusts with the scoop-thing in the direction of Ellema's groin. Then he pointed it as his own ass and did it again, and laughed. "God, it's so naughty!" 

* * *

"No class necessary," SHE smiled, then sobered. "You know, if you like," SHE felt almost shy now, something SHE couldn't remember ever happening before, "I could show you how to work it." It implied that he'd be around to make coffee, and the thought made HER shiver.

Before Dean could react, however, he discovered the ice cream scoop and broke out in laughter. The device had a thick handle, but SHE'd never associated it with a dildo before. Now that Dean had put it out there, SHE couldn't deny the similarity. It made HER laugh, too, and SHE felt warmth spread in HER belly, caused by the ease and familiarity between HER and Dean although they'd only met a few hours ago.

"I'd never thought of it before, but you do have a point," SHE laughed. "Not that I'd need it with you around," SHE winked, "neither for scooping ice cream nor..." SHE was shaking with laughter over his gestures, to the point that SHE couldn't speak any longer. 

Eventually, SHE regained control over HER body. HER eyes narrowed slightly when SHE considered how he'd pointed the thing at his ass. SHE hadn't missed how hard he'd gotten off earlier in the hot tub, and SHE didn't think it was a coincidence that he'd been sitting right on a jet when it had happened. And now this. All SHE knew about men told HER that this was a tightrope walk, even though he had insinuated it. Still, SHE couldn't resist.

"Unless you want me to use it on you?" 

SHE hoped SHE'd made it clear to him that it was an offer he could easily decline, but could he really trust HER that much already? Even though it felt as if they were soul mates, they'd only met a few hours before. SHE held HER breath and waited.

* * *

His antics worked their magic. After an initial shocked look, Ellema laughed till she shook with it, had to set down her little silver pitcher and hold on to the edge of the counter. Dean got caught up in it, too... Till Ellema managed to speak. Then all he heard was _"...use it on you?"_

At least it was a question, not a command, and the fact she was a woman, not a dude, with a female's higher voice might have cut through the worst. Dean's head buzzed and swam with six years of bad memories. All of a sudden it wasn't funny at all anymore. He felt like he might be sick. For years, he'd been compelled, made to have 'things' shoved up there, some of it before he was fully grown. His aversion to it was huge, to the extent he'd broken things off with Sam... not solely because he'd rimmed Dean, the resulting orgasm so intense he'd passed out, but because the idea of Sam needing more and Dean not being able to provide it, plus the fact that Sam wanted from Dean what Dean himself had been forced to endure with pain and humiliation... He couldn't do that to his brother. Not while Sam was still underage, probably not ever. And the worst? He had wanted to fuck Sam. So bad. He'd nearly given in. What did that make him? 

But here, now? He had to pass it off as a joke. Had to, or Ellema might get the whole pathetic story out of him thanks to his one moment of stupidity. No way could he let that happen. 

"Um..." Dean made a show of being out of breath and wiping his eyes. "Just kidding around." Ellema looked disappointed, eyes losing some of their sparkle, though she _said_ he was free to say no. 

Though still on the verge of panicking, Dean decided he owed her at least some honesty. "I've done it, and I know for a fact I don't like it." The inflection made it clear what 'it' meant, or so he hoped. To an outsider, unless they were homophobic, in and of itself what he had confessed presented no reason for shame, yet he could feel his face and neck redden; even that little reveal was more than he could tell his brother. "So, er, I'll pass on that. Or my ass will. But you still want ice cream, right?" 

* * *

If SHE was a little disappointed by his reaction at first it was mainly due to surprise. Dean had started it, after all, but when he explained that he'd 'done it' and didn't like it, SHE immediately accepted it. SHE could tell that there was more – and SHE could also tell that he didn't want to elaborate.

"It's okay," SHE said calmly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." SHE didn't have to remind him that his fooling around had given HER the idea. It was clear that the topic did make him uncomfortable, which was the last thing SHE wanted.

"Of course I still want ice cream, and I assume that you still want coffee," SHE resumed their earlier conversation. "So you have Irish ancestors?" SHE asked while SHE ground the coffee beans and filed them in the compartment of the machine that would brew the drink.

* * *

For a moment he'd feared otherwise, but Ellema didn't press. In some way, Dean almost wished she had. He wanted to be taken down, put in his place so he could fight his way back up. Though never in a real relationship with a woman, Dean recognized his impulses as problem behavior – and a reason not to start now. 

He plopped a couple scoops of ice cream onto their plates, on top of the golden pie crusts. "I think there's Irish on my mom's side – their last name was Campbell. Not real sure though, my dad's always been vague about that. Family history, ancestry, is important to you, huh?" Struggling to get back on track Dean offered, gesturing toward her machine, "You can try to teach me, though it's doubtful I'll get my hands on anything this nice again." Now that was a definite double meaning, and he smiled just a little. "I mean, I'm a total coffee-holic." So it wouldn't melt, Dean put the ice cream back in the freezer. He picked up the two plates and went to stand beside Ellema. "You'll have to pretend like I'm six years old for this demonstration." He could field strip and reassemble any of their weapons in the dark, but this contraption left him clueless. "We've only ever had the drip kind of machine, with a filter." 

* * *

The look Dean gave HER made HER wonder if he – unaware of this? – wanted to renew his ass-play experience and overwrite bad memories. SHE wouldn't bring up the topic again, but later in bed, SHE could test how he reacted to being licked at the taint... A flush of desire coursed through HER at the thought and SHE forced HERself to focus on the coffee.

"I'll teach you in the morning," SHE promised as SHE took the steaming mugs from the machine. The scent was delicious and got even better when SHE added the alcohol and cream.

"Living room?" SHE asked. "Another piece of the house tour."

* * *

"Yeah, sure... Blame the temporary 'Duh' moment on food coma, all the mind-blowing sex," Dean pronounced, "and a recent detour of blood from brain to..." he looked straight down his body, then up again, giving Ellema a mock-astonished expression. "Well, well. All fueled up again." Yep, the bulge under the robe was back. 

The woman before him had to have some sort of tractor beam; Dean just wanted to be near her now, breathe in her scent, saturate them with touch, get that body under him, around him. Well, that and pie. "Better hurry up and lead the way before we don't make it there," he leered. 

* * *

"Hm, that's a hard decision," SHE grinned. "We shouldn't have to choose between coffee and sex. But, yeah, I hear you. I may not display such a nice bulge, but trust me, all fueled up here, too."

SHE led the way, and SHE could feel his eyes on HER as they caressed HER backside. Setting the coffee cups on the glass table, SHE leered at Dean. "Shall we see if we can get each other off before the ice cream melts and the coffee turns cold?"

* * *

"A hard decision, and getting harder, looking at that fine ass of yours," Dean followed the thread as well as the woman into the living room. Ellema's long, dark hair swayed enticingly in opposition with the swing of her hips. Not really even noting much about the room, Dean saw a big overstuffed couch, and opportunity. He walked right up to Ellema and set both plates down on a side table. 

"If you want it that fast, I promise I'll finish before it melts," he snorted. "Now doesn't that sound like your average man?" Dean didn't consider himself average, not in the bedroom. The opinion was not only his, or it wouldn't have been his in the first place. He herded Ellema up onto the couch but when she made to lie down he pulled her up again and turned her. "Uh-uh... Up and on your knees, baby. Gonna mount you from behind." 

He was more than hard enough, his cock about to leak despite that he should be dry after all the earlier activities. Sore, a little, but dry, not yet. He dropped the borrowed silk robe onto the floor behind him and crawled up behind Ellema, rubbing his torso and groin against her. She'd liked her nipples played with; Dean slid his hands around her sides to support and fondle her heavy breasts. While her robe felt nice, it was in the way. Ellema unknotted the belt, and Dean pulled it off and tossed it, so their naked skin touched shoulders to thighs, and below that, he pushed his knees apart on the leather of the couch, forcing hers wider. Slithering his hips, Dean nudged forward, the tip of his cock seeking the hot, wet depths. Their arrangement for tonight thanks to his oversight with the condom gave so much more sensation.

"Ellema... Feels so good, nnnngh nngh!" He found the angle where his dick began to slide in, upwards, and lunged. 

* * *

Dean didn't hesitate to follow up on HER suggestion. Within a second, SHE was on HER hands and knees on the couch, so wet that SHE was probably dripping HER juices all over the leather. 

"You're... definitely not the average man," SHE gasped when he pulled HER robe off and laid on top of HER, his hands weighing HER breasts and causing a sweet pulling sensation down to HER belly. "Want you... now..."

Dean nudged HER knees apart, and SHE could feel his dick sliding down HER ass crack. When it rubbed over HER tiny pucker, SHE held HER breath and wondered for a moment how he'd react if SHE invited him in there. But then, like a heat-seeking missile, he found HER wet folds and bottomed out in a single, firm push.

"Nnngh, nghhh!" SHE echoed his groans when he slid home again and again, each thrust spearing HER. The friction was driving HER crazy, and before SHE knew it was happening, SHE was already coming, pulsing, throbbing around him.

"Dean, oh yes, yes, let it go for me!"

* * *

"Oh gaaaaawwwd!" Dean moaned, letting his body have its way. Trickles of Ellema's slick dripped over his sac, down the insides of his legs as he fucked like it would be his last time ever. She'd already proved she could take it rough; inside, the slippery vice of her velvet tunnel gripped at his cock, friction so hot and tight and perfect his eyes rolled back in his head. It didn't matter if he couldn't see – their bodies crashing together in a speeding rhythm that consumed his existence. He couldn't get enough of Ellema's tits that overflowed his hands, the hard tips digging into his palms. Smack! Smack! Smack! Dean humped against her ass and into her, tightening balls swinging and slapping. The two of them both moaned and grunted like porn stars, which just fed his lust.

"Gonna, mmmmph, gonna...!" Yeah, he was going to flood her with his seed again, get so deep inside. His toes curled, his butt muscles squeezed, the tendons in his groin and thighs flexed, his stone-hard dick the conduit of a huge load any second to spew from his aching jewels – everything tensed so he thought he'd go crazy from the pressure. Swollen and throbbing, his dick hit a different texture with his next thrust. Not just wet and bare, but cloud-soft, puffy, caressing. Below him, Ellema arched, nearly throwing him off. She shook from it, and Dean's mind registered her climax, how some part of her was thumping out the code of her release against his cock. Damn, he loved it when his women got off hard from what he did to them. 

Then it all exploded into white light and jizz; Dean howled his pleasure, shoving himself into Ellema as deep as he could go and he came and came. 

* * *

Slowly coming down from HER high, SHE continued to press back against Dean, allowing him to ride it out. His climax didn't seem to want to end, and SHE enjoyed it even more as SHE hadn't used even the smallest hint of HER powers to get him there. No, it was all him and their incredible chemistry.

SHE could feel him pulsing inside HER, heard his bellows and grunts and howls until he finally collapsed on HER back, fighting for breath. He was still inside HER and SHE wanted him to stay, but his exhaustion and the slick of their mingled sweat soon made him slip off HER. SHE moved aside so they both came to lie on the couch next to each other.

"Wow," SHE panted, "you really are something. Not that I'm surprised by now, but that was... just wow." SHE licked at a trickle of sweat on his throat. "Mmh, very tasty." Sitting up slowly as SHE regathered HER wits, SHE smiled. "I dunno about you, but an orgasm should always be followed by pie, ice cream, and coffee, don't you think?"

* * *

All brain function pretty much shorted out, 'pie' still filtered through. Once he'd managed to slow his breathing enough to speak, Dean sat up. "Yeah please, before it melts." 

Speaking of, he wrinkled his nose at the mess they'd made on the couch. It wasn't as bad as some he and Sam had created together, but still... And weren't a woman's secretions supposedly more acidic? "I hope you have some good leather cleaner around here. If you don't, I have some in my car." No doubt Ellema could figure out why. 

Dean stood and fetched their plates. Handing Ellema hers with a smile, he plopped back down next to her. Apple first, he decided, and took a huge bite. "'S good!" he moaned ecstatically, mouth full. "'D'joo make it?" 

* * *

SHE didn't miss Dean's look at the mess they'd made, and he even offered to help with cleaning it up. He was too good to be true – almost. "Don't worry about it," SHE said. "I have paid help for that kind of thing. And, yes, that's decadent, but I'm thinking of it the way that the woman who does the cleaning for me wouldn't be able to support her family otherwise." His unspoken but clear suggestion that SHE knew why he kept leather cleanser in his car made HER chuckle.

"And no, I didn't make this," SHE admitted. "I'm good at some things, and I can find my way around the kitchen, but there are limits to my skills. Again, being filthy rich helps." SHE smiled.

* * *

Dean didn't think that was bad, especially not if she was helping someone less fortunate. Happiness and sadness was visited on the rich and poor alike, he'd seen enough of that, hunting. "You wear it well. Or... You _don't wear_ ," he gestured at Ellema's nude body, "it well." Again, he appreciated her with his eyes, from long legs to soft belly with its little navel to breasts and finally, her animated, angled face. Taking another bit of dessert, cherry this time, he closed his eyes to savor it.

* * *

Dean closed his eyes when he sampled the cherry pie, but SHE hadn't missed the look he'd given HER body. Neither did SHE miss that his dick was swelling again, and SHE felt ridiculously pleased. They'd both be sore in the morning, regardless of the incredible amount of slick HER body kept producing. How many times would he be able to get it up again? SHE wished this night would never end.

"You said you have Irish ancestry," SHE thought back to what he'd said earlier. "I always thought the Campbells were Scottish." It was too early to have sex again, and SHE wanted to know more about him.

* * *

"Hm, I dunno much about it, other than what my dad said, and that's my mom's side," Dean replied, shrugging, never-the-less he felt his face heat up. "I imagine it's a common enough name, there's Campbells everywhere. Winchester is English or British, whatever, but I doubt we have any distinguished nobility in my family tree. Bet you anything it was someone's bright idea for a fake name, since it's a popular brand of rifle. You probably knew that, too. So... Do you have much experience with firearms?" Didn't rich people belong to fancy shooting and hunting clubs? It was probably only for target practice, but who knew. The idea of women handling guns kind of turned him on. 

And just like that, Dean was hardening again. It kinda hurt; his dick really needed a break or it would chafe. And the delicate structures under the skin had been overused already tonight. But it was a sweet ache, like a good massage on sore feet. What the hell? He gestured at his lap with his plate, still more than half-full of pie and melty ice cream. "I'm not complaining but what – did you slip some Viagra in my beer?"

* * *

It took HER a moment to understand Dean's change of topic from his name to guns since he'd only mentioned 'Campbell' as family name before, and not Winchester. 

"The name suits you," SHE teased. "I'd say that you have a few things in common with a loaded rifle that's ready to go off." SHE laughed. "And no, I haven't put anything in your beer – or your coffee or whiskey or food." It wasn't a lie, and except for after their first round, SHE hadn't touched him with HER power either.

"And no again to me and firearms. I've never handled one, not even at a fair. When I was little, the guards at the digs had guns, but that's the closest I've ever come. What about you? How are you with guns, I mean, other than _that_ one," SHE smirked and nodded at his groin.

* * *

"Other than that one..." Dean smirked, happy the subject wasn't off-limits with Ellema, "it's kind of a thing in my family. We all practice a lot, and we all have our own little collections." Thinking fast, Dean decided to refer to it as a hobby, nothing more. He certainly wasn't about to mention the arsenal in Baby's trunk. "Now if I'd just gone so many rounds with say, my .45, that's a pistol, I'd have to clean and oil it. 'Course, we had a bath, so that helps. And you've given me a liberal lube job, too." 

Double meanings were one of his specialties, and Dean didn't bother trying to keep the silly, loopy grin from teasing at his lips. "Handguns, rifles, shotguns... They're all rather masculine in form and function. Penis extensions. Y'know..." Well, Ellema probably didn't, and he shrugged again, and leaned in her direction. "I could comment about _eating your pie_ about now." And he waggled his eyebrows. "Dunno about you but I'm getting sore, sorry to say. How's your, uh...?" Unsure of which term Ellema wouldn't be insulted by, Dean darted his eyes, sure she'd get the point. She had to, if it really had been a while for her, considering he wasn't exactly tiny and they'd made like a couple of bunnies. 

* * *

"Okay, okay, you win!" SHE wheezed out before SHE broke down laughing. It took a while before SHE could speak again without hiccup-ing. 

"Oh boy," SHE finally groaned. "Yeah, I hear you. I guess I'm going to walk funny for a day, too. At least I have the advantage of being allowed to wear a skirt, what are you going to do? Especially with a curious teenage brother around at home? Maybe you should stay here until you're no longer sore... but then, I think as soon as we're not hurting any longer, there's a chance we'll ravish each other again. Don't you think?"

* * *

Pleased Ellema laughed at his dirty mind, Dean kept on grinning but at his pie – the food kind of pie on his plate with super-sweet ice cream melting all over it. He couldn't decide which kind was better, the mellow cinnamon-y apple, or the tart cherry. Didn't really matter: he mowed them down in short order, sighed, and patted his belly. The coffee, which he hadn't touched yet, was next. 

"I doubt my curious kid brother will ask. He knows what I get up to when I go out, and like I told you, he's mad at me. Besides, when I took off tonight, my dad was babysitting him because he'd just come down with chicken pox. Kid was scratching so much Dad handcuffed him to the headboard," Dean snorted. No, these days Sam didn't want to talk to him at all, much less discuss any sex life of Dean's that excluded him. "That'd be kind of kinky if it wasn't just... ew. And that reminds me, I should check my phone soon. I ignored a call earlier, in the parking lot." Now that he remembered, Dean had a good look around the room, realizing how foreign the luxurious surroundings were for him. Large comfortable furniture, modern but classy, with matching drapery and accessories. On the walls, different styles of art was framed with heavy carved and guilded wood. The statues and knick-knacks scattered about must be some of Ellema's Egyptian artifacts. He could be in a foreign country. Funny how very different things were, just a thirty-minute drive away. "You mind if I go check?" 

* * *

Uh-oh, it sounded as if HER invitation was driving Dean away. Then again, he was worried about his brother, despite his insisting that the 'kid' was mad at him and that the earlier call hadn't been an important one. It wasn't any of HER business, but SHE could sense Dean's concern.

"Handcuffed to the headboard? Your father has an interesting take toward nursing," SHE suggested, wondering if that was the way Dean had been brought up, too. He must have.

"Go check your messages," SHE said. "I'll take care of the dishes meanwhile."

* * *

John looked at the clock in the ER waiting room and ground his teeth. When Sam's fever had risen, John had uncuffed him and given him a cold bath to get his temperature down. Sam hadn't exactly liked that, and when John had taken him back to bed, he'd cried out with increasing frequency and volume for Dean. Finally, just when John had considered gagging the boy, their next door neighbor had shown up.

Whether she'd initially come to complain about the racket, John didn't know. However, as soon as she'd seen the fever-racked Sam, she'd gone into full mother-hen mode and called an ambulance, which was why he was now watching the clock and grinding his teeth while he waited for news. 

The Doc had banned him from Sam's cubicle, and John had had nothing left to do except leaving progressively annoyed messages on Dean's voice mail. Where was the little fucker anyway? Familiar with Dean's habits from his accounts to Sam, John knew that Dean never lingered after getting off, so why didn't he answer his phone? As time drew on and he had no update on either of his sons, John began to wonder if something bad had happened to Dean. He dialed again.

_"This is Dean's phone, please leave a message."_

* * *

For a split second, Ellema's face had taken on the familiar pinch of a female soon to be deprived of his company, and Dean remembered himself, and that he'd long overstayed his usual self-allotted time. Not to mention what he'd done. But as with earlier, she was too sophisticated to act the clingy bitch and waved him off upstairs to check his phone. 

Dean didn't bother to pick up the borrowed robe but padded through the house stark naked. The silk garment was too fine for him, anyway. As he walked away, he could feel Ellema's sharp eyes on him. She probably thought he was going to leave her in the lurch after having unsafe sex with her. He both regretted and treasured that, for the irresponsibility and possible consequences and on the flip side, for the heightened sensitivity, feeling everything. He could never allow himself that again, but damn, the memories were making his dick rise again. There was nothing either of them could do till the next day, anyway. No way he was going to make her deal with the clinic alone – for his own good as well as hers – unless that was what she wanted. 

With whatever might be going on with Sam raising his tendency to worry and stew, Dean found his phone in the pocket of his jeans where he'd dropped them, wow, several hours ago already. He groaned when he saw the notification of several texts and voice mail messages. Might as well get it over with. All were from his dad, of course. His gruff voice barked at Dean wondering where he was, and the texts were little more forthcoming with information. The hospital? For chicken pox? Why? It had to be a severe case. John never took them for medical care unless is was life-and-death, or something far out of the scope of his field medic training. Most of those experiences, Dean tried to block out of his mind. 

_I'm fine. Not coming home 2nite. Why the hospital? Will S be OK?_ Dean texted back finally. He would drive directly there, where ever it was, if not. His dad had to know that, but after he'd been more or less banished from their apartment earlier, he didn't want John to think he could just demand Dean come running in the middle of the night over some minor thing. 

* * *

His phone dinged, indicating an incoming message. John stared at it unbelievingly. How many voice mails had he left Dean, ordering him to return immediately, and now his eldest was merely texting that he wasn't going to. He immediately dialed Dean's number. If Dean had texted a minute ago, chances were that he'd pick up the call.

* * *

After SHE'd put the plates and cups in the dishwasher, SHE wiped HER and Dean's juices off the couch and poured HERself another glass of Champagne. Dean was still upstairs and SHE hoped he hadn't received any bad news. Then again, in that case he'd have probably already told HER so and left HER alone.

SHE stood at the terrace door and mused that SHE really didn't want him to leave. Not only the sex was fantastic; SHE also enjoyed his company. When SHE'd first seen him and learned about his age, SHE'd almost drawn back. Even with older and educated men, the gap between HER life experience and theirs could rarely be bridged. It was one of the reasons why SHE hadn't had sex in decades. 

With Dean, however, everything fit. He was intelligent and funny and had an awesome body. SHE sensed that there was a lot he wasn't telling HER and that some of his experiences by far exceeded what 'normal' people would go through in their lives. It made HER curious. Although SHE respected his privacy SHE wondered if SHE should be more encouraging of him to open up to HER. Maybe SHE could help. Unless SHE'd push him away with such an offer.

SHE sighed. Most men wanted to either 'conquer' and rule HER or they wanted to be ruled by HER. Dean didn't fit in either category, and SHE really wanted to get to know him better.

HER internal clock suggested that it had been too long since he'd gone upstairs and SHE was getting a little nervous. SHE followed him and knocked on the closed door to HER bedroom where SHE assumed SHE'd find him; it was where they'd torn off their clothes earlier.

"Dean? Everything okay?"

* * *

Of course, Dean's phone lit up again shortly after he sent the text. It was his dad. Though impossible, it was as if John conveyed his pique through the incessant blinking of 'Dad' on the display. John would just keep calling if he didn't answer. 

Dean hit the Answer button. "Yeah, hello Dad. What?" 

* * *

John didn't even bother listening when Dean answered the call. "Get your ass to the Memorial Central ER _now!_ It's at 1400 East Boulder," he barked and hung up.

* * *

Great. His bone-deep response was to jump to obey. Just as Dean was debating whether he'd follow John's drill sergeant-style orders or turn his phone off for the rest of the night, he heard a knock at the door and Ellema's voice asking if he was alright. Now there – she – was motivation to ignore his dad. "Come in," he called out. Then he remembered it was her house, her bedroom, so it wasn't like he could really stop her, although he got the impression Ellema would respect his privacy, as he'd respect hers. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. My dad's barking at me me to report to the hospital ER," he sighed. "He's there with Sam." It was probably just to provide taxi service, Dean reflected. John would be like a wild grizzly bear in a hospital, growling and pacing, ready to tear the head off anyone who looked at him wrong. It might be a mercy for Dean to get him out of there, for the sake of the hospital staff and other patients and their families. But then Sam would be alone. But the little shit probably would appreciate a night off from his family. Torn in several directions at once, which was unfamiliar ground – he'd been trained to be decisive and stick to his decision – Dean looked up at the woman standing before him. The generous, beautiful, intriguing, obviously intelligent... What a hunter she'd be. Other than, she deserved so much more than the constant hardship that was their life. 

"I... I should go. I hate to, I love your place and you've been so good to me but..." His dad's words shouted in his head: _Family comes first... Take care of Sam... can't have friends, relationships, the white picket fence life..._ He couldn't blow off his dad; the training was too strong. "Do you want a ride back into town?" he offered, since Ellema had left her car at the bar. Reaching for his clothes, Dean did his best to do puppy-dog eyes. That was a Sam thing, but he could be convincing, too. He hoped.

* * *

SHE nodded slowly when Dean explained that he had to leave. If the younger brother was at the ER, SHE didn't have to ask how he was, and it was clear how much Dean loved him. It was equally clear that he didn't want to go.

"We've been drinking and you're upset," SHE said practically. "Maybe you shouldn't risk driving your baby. I have an SUV you could borrow." SHE smiled. "I'm not even pretending that this is a ploy to have you return to me."

Turning serious again, SHE continued. "I promise not to touch your car if I need to go out, I can always call a cab to collect my ride. Or, if you don't feel like driving, I could give you a lift. I know my way around town probably better than you and I haven't had as much to drink as you." SHE couldn't tell him that alcohol didn't affect HER.

* * *

His jeans and boxers were all twisted together. Dean stood, shook them out, and tried not to fall on his ass. Getting dressed again to leave after closing the deal was always awkward, and Ellema had assessed his level of drunkenness fairly accurately. "I appreciate all that, but I'll drive, and I'll take Baby, I mean, my car. Probably shouldn't tell you this, but I'm used to driving myself home when I'm, um, not exactly sober." Buckling his belt, Dean pulled his tee-shirt back on over his head. Frankly, it was more than a little funky and stank of smoke from the bar. The flannel as well. He'd just have to live with it. 

He made sure he had everything: wallet, keys, lighter, flask, folding knife. Though his dad would have chewed his ass for it, Dean had left the .45 in the concealed space under Baby's front seat. Having it discovered made for uncomfortable questions he couldn't answer, and in some chicks, outrage, so he'd learned not to start anything intensely physical till it was off his person. 

"Ellema," he decided to be up front about one thing, at least. "We talked about the clinic after... After I messed up. Write down your number for me. We'll go together, unless you'd rather not have me there."

All that was left was his socks and shoes, which Dean pulled on as quickly as he could. "Thank you... I'll never forget this night." Steeping in close, he cupped her face in both hands for a last kiss. 

* * *

Dean admitted to being used to drunk driving, which didn't really surprise HER. Albeit in a completely different fashion, his life was as much outside the norm as HERs. It suddenly made HER fiercely protective of him. 

When Dean kissed HER, SHE knew what SHE had to do. Kissing back, SHE let HER essence flow into him. "I'm coming with you," SHE said. "It'll save me a trip because I can get my pill at the ER." SHE smiled. "As you said, we'll go together. And if you'd rather not have me there later, there's always taxis."

* * *

Fleeting though it was, Dean caught the slight scent of something strange. Not Ellema, per se; still her but not-her. And then he agreed, against all of his own natural instincts, that she go to the ER with him. Never before had he considered bringing one of his women within shouting distance of his father. And if Sam saw her... 

And then, as Ellema's lips slid away and he looked into her dark, concerned and yet eager eyes, Dean couldn't say no. He shrugged and murmured, "If you like." 

It didn't take but a minute for Ellema to dress, or perhaps he was more inebriated than he realized and it was screwing with his time perception. Dean wandered into the bathroom to pee. Facing John with a full bladder was a bad idea – he'd see Dean shift and fire questions at him like a paid interrogator, not letting up till there was a full-scale pee-pee dance, enjoying himself entirely too much. Such was one of the many things he and Sam had learned to withstand at a young age, but John would use it anyway if he thought it was to his advantage. Also, the faster he could get the alcohol out of his system, the better. In a moment of lucidity, Dean prayed to his liver and kidneys to metabolize faster. He washed his hands and returned to the bedroom where the scent of sex and cum still lingered to find Ellema fully dressed, looking more like a big-city investment banker than anyone who lived in the woods, mansion or no mansion.

Dean couldn't repress a quick leer, though he felt strangely numb. Man, he needed more coffee, and he hoped he could remember how to get back to town. Well, Ellema would direct him. Palming his keys, he nodded and waited to follow her. 

* * *

The drive was a silent one. Except for HER giving directions to the hospital, they didn't speak. Dean had given HER a strange look after SHE'd 'convinced' him to take HER along. Again, SHE felt that he was not just an average man. To start with, he was much more perceptive than anyone else of his age that SHE'd ever met. It was what attracted HER, and SHE couldn't deny that it turned HER on to deal with someone who had better developed senses than most others. On the other hand, SHE was clueless as to how he might react if he found out that SHE, too, was more than SHE'd let him see so far. In any event, SHE had no intention of losing him.

Or hurting him. SHE wasn't sure why Dean was so upset. Oh, he tried to hide it, but SHE could read that he was deeply troubled. What SHE couldn't tell was the reason, or rather, the most prominent reason. There was the sick younger brother who held a grudge – not only sick but hospital sick, so it had to be bad if SHE interpreted right that Dean's family were not exactly of the type to cry for a doctor for anything that wasn't immediately life-threatening. Was Dean afraid that the brother could die without them making up? Or was he afraid of his father, a man who handcuffed a fifteen-year-old to stop him from scratching at a chicken pox rash? Or was it something else altogether?

Blue flashing lights from behind tore HER from HER musings. A quick glance at the odometer told HER that they were much too fast. SHE put HER hand on Dean's thigh. "Dean, let me deal with this, please."

* * *

"Oh that's just fucking great," Dean swore through gritted teeth. The blue flashers were several hundred yards behind, but closing in. Yes, he'd been speeding. Once he'd made up his mind to go, he wasn't going to delay in any sense. If he'd been familiar with the road, he'd have made a run for it, but it was dark, the road was winding, and he wouldn't roll Baby over something like this. With a huff, he pulled onto the shoulder and reached over into the glove box. Plenty of the stuff in there he didn't want any cop to see. Fishing out the registration papers, he shoved the little door shut again and hoped Ellema wouldn't comment. 

As the cop swaggered up with a flashlight held at shoulder level, Dean pulled out his wallet for the driver's license inside. He muttered under his breath, from the side of his mouth, "Don't say anything unless he asks out a direct question." This wasn't going to be fun. His plates and license were out of state, Kansas. It had taken almost a month after his dad had given him the Impala, but it was in Dean's name now, at least. 

"License and registration, please," the cop said testily. Dean handed them out through the window. "So where's the fire?" 

* * *

Dean had told HER not to say anything but SHE felt free to ignore his advice. They were in a hurry, after all, and HER way would work much faster than Dean's.

"Good evening, officer," SHE replied before Dean could open his mouth to contradict HER. "My friend's brother is ill and we need to get to the ER." SHE smiled HER power at the man and watched him return the smile.

"Of course, Ma'am. If you'll just follow me..." He returned to his cruiser and drove off with sirens and blue lights flashing, guiding them through the town at at least twice the legal speed.

Dean's jaw had dropped and SHE knew SHE wouldn't get away with it this time. "Later," SHE hissed over the engine's roar. "For now, assume that I know pretty much everybody here and I'm rich. Just drive."

* * *

The way Ellema handled the cop, like she spoke to people in authority every day with the expectation they would do what she asked with no question or fuss told Dean to be on his guard, though he also felt reluctant gratitude. Because of her influence, there'd be no questions, no roadside sobriety test, no ticket or arrest. The woman was used to doing what she wanted, and getting what she wanted. That was working to Dean's advantage at the moment. He wasn't scared of her, but he didn't want to have to cross her, either. 

Before he had time to think on it much, they were at the door to the ER. He was lucky to find a parking spot near the entrance. Turning to Ellema, he spoke quickly, needing to do preemptive damage control. "Look, whatever's going to happen in there won't be pretty. Sam, I don't know how bad he is, and my dad's, um, not easy to deal with on a good day." Dean would never have spoken of his father like that to anyone else. He kept his opinions and feelings about John bottled, and close to the chest. "I'll probably be with my brother as much as I can." 

Damn it, this wasn't easy. He was just going to have to be direct. "It's better if we pretend not to know each other, so Dad doesn't start in on you, too." His lips quirked up, considering the likely outcome of the two of them tangling verbally. "Although I'd almost want to be a mouse in the corner. When I can, I'll see how it's going for you, okay?" The slight pleading note in his voice annoyed the crap out of Dean. For the first time ever, he understood his lack of independence despite his seeming freedom with women and going out. It sucked. 

He couldn't procrastinate any longer. Dean locked the car, then marched into the ER waiting room. He spotted his dad immediately, glowering and shifting around restlessly with the expected black cloud hanging over his head. He walked up and dropped into a chair opposite. "How's Sam?" he asked.

* * *

The moment Dean stepped through the ER doors, John was out of his cheap plastic chair. "How's Sam? If you cared at all about your brother you wouldn't have ignored my messages for hours," John raged. Yes, he'd sent Dean away, but finding a lay usually didn't take his eldest more than a couple of hours. "Don't tell me you're going steady," he spat. "As for Sam, your guess is as good as mine. Nobody tells me anything except that they're trying to figure out what's wrong with him." John sighed, the worry for Sam even stronger than his outrage toward Dean.

* * *

SHE entered the ER a few seconds after Dean, and from the way Dean stood before a man who could only be Dean's father, SHE sensed that things weren't exactly going well. When Dean had suggested that things wouldn't be pretty SHE hadn't been sure what to expect, but 'not pretty' was an apt description. SHE narrowed HER eyes, not at all liking the way HER confident to the point of cocky lover was being chewed out in front of a growing audience of medical staff.

Making up HER mind, SHE approached the triage desk. The nurse immediately acknowledged HER power, and less than a minute later, SHE was interrogating the attending. It didn't sound good. The kid had developed pneumonia, but that wasn't the main problem: the doctor had recognized handcuff marks on Sam's wrists and, apparently, a number of suspicious scars and bruises on his body. Child protective services had been informed, and it was only due to another call on the other side of town that the understaffed CPS office hadn't yet sent a representative. 

There wasn't much time to lose. After soothing the doctor, promising that SHE'd take care of everything, SHE picked the nearest white coat and approached Dean and his father. "Mr., uh, Smith? I need to talk to you about your son Sam."

* * *

John gave Dean the sharp side of his tongue, no surprise there. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean shut up and took it, nothing new there, either. He felt old, suddenly, bone-tired and drained. And as well he should, with how he'd spent his night thus far, and he couldn't deny that in some sense, their dad was right – if Sam was sick enough to be admitted to the hospital, he had no business being out tomcatting. Just weeks ago, he wouldn't have even considered it – he'd have been at Sam's side and probably in his hospital bed when the nurses weren't looking. But now... Dean sighed. No wonder Sam hated him. 

About to apologize, or knowing John, nothing would suffice but a good grovel accompanied by a plethora of kicked puppy looks, a shot of adrenaline hit Dean's veins like cold fire when he saw Ellema approaching them in a white coat, clipboard in hand. If Dad had seen them walk in together, he'd assume she was just an intern or resident on call, summoned in the middle of the night and their arrival at the same time, only coincidence. Well, that was one thing taken care of but Dean had his doubts as to whether she'd be able to pull this off. He stepped back and rolled his eyes at her in reference to John, and hoped to whatever deity was up there that Ellema knew what she was doing. 

* * *

"Mr. Smith," SHE began, "we're about to release Sam. Dean will take care of him while you return to your current home and evacuate it. Then you're going to meet us here." SHE handed him a slip of paper with the address of the bar where SHE'd met Dean.

* * *

John blinked when the doctor addressed him, but instead of asking what had taken so long, he just listened and accepted the piece of paper. "Sure," he said. "Thanks, Doc, and I'll see you in an hour." He turned toward his eldest. "Dean." Without another word, he left the ER and went to his car and drove off to clear their current apartment.

* * *

Releasing Sam, after he'd been set to be admitted...? Ellema did think fast on her feet, he gave her that. Fine, Dean could go along with that part of the plan. He'd been primary caregiver most of his life, and despite his fatigue, Dean looked forward to the challenge of nursing his sick brother through the worst of his illness. He was a hell of a lot better at it than John. 

At hearing the second part of Ellema's instructions, for his dad to meet her at the same bar they'd started, Dean blinked hard. He felt his eyes widen and his head push forward on his neck, his mouth forming as small of an 'O' as his stupid lips could manage. Once, Sam had laughingly called it his 'beautiful idiot face'. Dean had caught a glimpse of it in a window reflection on a hunt, just after a witch started flinging the grisly contents of her spell bowl around the room, and he had to agree – 50 IQ points shaved in one facial expression. A shift in position and sideways glance told him John was pleased as punch with the... proposition. He really thought he was going to get lucky later!

"I feel sick," Dean muttered under his breath. Yeah, it was a act, whatever Ellema was up to – it had better be an act! "Where's Sam?" he asked loudly, breaking up whatever little moment his dad thought he was having with the 'lady doctor'. John turned tail and left as if without any care in the world beyond following his orders to the letter. Was that some left-over Marine thing? He'd never seen the like. "Well what a difference five minutes makes," he blurted to no one in particular. Ellema was already turning away toward the back section of the ER with patient cubicles, and Dean hurried to catch up.

* * *

"Five minutes can make a big difference here, believe me," SHE told Dean when SHE turned to make sure he was following HER. SHE didn't understand his reference, but there wasn't time for discussion, that'd have to wait for later and SHE wasn't looking forward to it.

"The doctor told me that there's scars and bruises in addition to cuffmarks on your brother's wrists. CPS are on their way here to take Sam into custody. They'll bring the police for your father, which is why I thought it wise to have him gone before they arrive. Same for Sam now, we have to get him out of here – grab that wheelchair over there."

Thankfully, Dean obeyed so SHE didn't have to use HER powers on him. When SHE opened the curtain to Sam's cubicle, SHE immediately saw that he was sick. In addition to the chicken pox Dean had told her about there was something wrong with his breathing. It sounded like pneumonia, which SHE could take care of. However, there was his heart... Before SHE could figure out what exactly was wrong, Dean entered the cubicle behind HER and the boy in the bed lit up.

"Dean! You came for me!" Sam stretched out his arms and promptly ripped his IV out.

"Yes, he came for you," SHE confirmed, then turned to Dean. "Get him in the chair and let's go. I'll try to keep him quiet. No questions now, I'll explain everything later."

* * *

Dean got another shot of sour adrenaline with the mention of CPS. The Winchesters had tangled with them, and left a few towns on account of them, before. Besides death, that agency was the only thing that could distract John from a hunt. 

Just a minute later he followed Ellema into Sam's cubicle, and brought the wheelchair. His little brother calling out his name as if there'd never been a falling-out between them nearly undid Dean: he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or cum, but for now they had to get out of here. Sam didn't sound good, hoarse with coughing and wheezing. "Yeah, Sammy. Couldn't just leave you with the quacks all night."

Bundling Sam into the chair in sheets and blankets from the bed, Dean picked up the heat of Sam's fever against his own skin. The kid's long arms and legs sprawled everywhere, clumsy and uncoordinated; Dean had to position him three times. "Sam, concentrate. You gotta stay still!" 

It seemed to take a million years to ready him, everything stuck in slo-mo. Finally they were ready, all Sam's clothes rolled up under Dean's arm. He tried to deaden his panic, pretend like he was supposed to be removing his sick teenaged brother from the ER. Head up and alert, he pushed the wheelchair toward the entrance doors. 

* * *

Watching the brothers together hit HER like a kick to the solar plexus: the agony SHE read in Sam's heart was not a physical one, and although Dean tried his best to hide it, he was suffering from the same condition. These two loved each other, deeply. Unless they found their way to each other's hearts, they were doomed to a lifetime of suffering.

Dean, busy with settling Sam in the wheelchair, hadn't noticed HER slip, and SHE wasn't about to tell him; not now, at least. When they arrived in the parking lot, SHE instructed Dean to put Sam in the back seat where SHE also sat. To HER question whether Dean could find his way back to the bar where they were supposed to meet the boys' father, he replied with a curt nod. It was obvious that, by now, he knew that things weren't what they looked like on the surface – that SHE wasn't who he'd thought SHE was – but there was no time for explanations, and Dean was bright enough to grasp that, too. SHE wasn't sure if he trusted HER, but for the moment he was doing as he was told. It almost broke HER heart that this would likely put the end to the only relationship SHE'd cared for in more than a century, but if it was indeed love SHE felt for Dean, his happiness counted more than HERs.

Dean took off with squealing tires, which made HER smile. His love for his 'Baby' might be nothing compared to his love for his brother, but it was still something that could tide him over the worst of the loneliness if he and Sam never straightened things out.

For now, SHE cradled the feverish Sam in HER arms. HER hand on his burning forehead succeeded in coaxing the fever down by a couple of degrees. SHE had to go slowly, but Sam seemed more comfortable already. After moving HER hand to his chest, his coughing abated, too. SHE wished SHE could do something to ease the pain in his heart but that was Dean's job, and he was the only one who could do it.

"He's gonna be... okay," SHE told Dean. SHE'd meant to say 'fine', but that depended on Dean. 

"Dean," SHE hesitated, "you don't know me, but can I ask you to trust me on this?"

* * *

"Fine. For now. You do anything to him, I'll kill you." 

Dean was more than uncomfortable with things he couldn't explain. For which there were no explanation. It started with the Thing that had taken his mother away, and continued through a long line of creatures, aberrations, shades of people that should have stayed dead. With Ellema's influence over the bartender, then the cop, Dean had assumed that money or her family name did the trick with getting her what she wanted. At the hospital, she'd successfully circumnavigated a slew of doctors, nurses, and social workers. All of that, he could pass off as skilled acting and sheer dumb luck. But his father? No one, no human and to date, no monsters, had been able to throw off John's single-minded sense of always being right, knowing what was best long-term, and doing it, to hell with the collateral damage. That was the proverbial litmus test, and something, as the saying went, was not right in China. 

Nor with Dean. He'd gone with Ellema all cock-first and no brains to her home, her lair, not even registering something was off. He'd fucked her, unprotected no less... geez, four times! Ate her food, drank her booze; what kind of deal had he sealed, not even knowing? And now she was ensconced back there with Sam, _his Sam_ , doing god knew what and asking him – Dean – to trust her! As if. Peeling out of the lot, Dean pressed his lips together and tried to formulate a plan to... To what? Kill her? He didn't know what she was, other than not human – that, he was certain. If she hurt Sam in any way, Dean would use his bare hands if he had to. Loyalty, love, and protectiveness toward his brother all roared within him so fiercely he could barely control his nerves.

He kept half his awareness on the roads, half on his rear view mirror. Slowly, Sam's coughing abated and it seemed like Sam's breathing came easier, less wheezy. There was little traffic at four-something in the morning. Soon, it would start to get light, Dean could feel the darkness lifting. If she was a vamp, it would impair her powers, but he didn't think so – she'd have bared her teeth in her pleasure, and wouldn't have eaten human food. From the back, her eyes glittered. Before, he'd seen humor and intelligence, and of course, a voracious sexual appetite. Now, it looked like menace to him. 

They beat John to the bar, even with his head start. It would take him time to pack their meager belongings and stash them in the truck. Dean took mental inventory: their clothes and toiletries, blankets and sleeping bags, what weapons were not in Baby's trunk, a few boxes of Dad's ever-present musty old books, that was it. They didn't own so much as a frying pan. Sam had a few books of his own, and Dean hoped John wouldn't 'forget' them as he tended to. Dean couldn't just sit there. He got out and started to pace. 

* * *

Slowly, Sam calmed in HER arms. Dean drove in silence until they reached the bar's parking lot, and then he stepped out of the car and started pacing. SHE lowered the now sleeping Sam carefully onto the back seat bench and got out to join Dean.

"He's asleep. You should go sit with him. He needs you." SHE wouldn't be more specific. Dean knew what his younger brother felt for him, there was no doubt of that: SHE'd sensed the same darkness Sam had in Dean's heart as soon as SHE'd recognized it in Sam.

"You should kill me if I did anything bad to him," SHE said slowly, "but you won't be able to. Believe me, I've tried. That's not why I brought you here, though. I'm trying to help. If you don't trust me, all you have to do is say so and I'll leave. Just don't return to your place here or the hospital. Sam will be fine, and the hospital staff won't remember him, but I couldn't erase the files on the computer. CPS and the police will still be after you. As long as you leave the state, you'll be safe, though. I don't think they have your father's car registry, and by the time they find out from your neighbors you can be far away."

Making sure that SHE stood at a distance from him, SHE continued. "I'm not using any powers on you right now. The decision is yours." SHE smiled wistfully. "And I meant what I said earlier that I wanted to get to know you better. If you decide to stay, I can offer you sanctuary and more explanation, but you should think about it before your father returns."

* * *

Dean couldn't see or hear anything of what was happening in the car. Every indication said "nothing", just Sam dozing and Ellema holding him; his instincts said otherwise. Twenty steps forward, turn, twenty steps back, never far from Baby. The lot was virtually empty, just them, an old, likely abandoned Ford Tempo with rusted-out fenders, and what had to be Ellema's ride, a spotless pearlescent blue-gray Infinity. His shoes hitting the pavement, every small grind of loose bits of asphalt and rock under his heels, shredded extra-loud to his ears. Any second, his dad might show, or cops. If CPS took Sam away Dean would probably not get to see him again till he turned 18. Living apart was unthinkable. Sam needed him! And Dean, in other ways, needed Sam, too. And... He loved his brother. Was in love with him. Part of that meant keeping him close. 

Then Ellema exited the car, determination evident in her face. By the time she finished talking, Dean's face heated, his eyes burned, and his heart ached from beating too damned fast. He kept his voice low, flat; if he let his emotions take over, he'd freak out. "I should thank you for getting Sam out of there. I owe you that. So thank you."

"I guess you're not what you seem... Just my luck – why am I not surprised? Must be some new species. You don't fit the profile of witch, vampire, shifter, vetala, or any number of things." He narrowed his eyes. "No one's ever _made_ my dad do anything. Hell, convincing him of the most obvious choice sometimes takes half a miracle." And Dean wasn't so equipped; he'd witnessed Pastor Jim and Bobby argue or reason John into a corner maybe a half-dozen times in his whole life, always about lore. 

He went on, grimly, as scenes of himself and Sam in that house, happy and carefree, laughing in the sunshine flashed before his eyes. Just more of the things he couldn't have. "Tempting as it is, I'll have to pass on your offer. It'd never work – I don't pay, and I don't owe. Right now, as I see it, we're even. You keep quiet about me and my family, I'll keep quiet about whatever it is that you are. Just... Get yourself checked, do whatever it is you do to not get knocked up, I don't want to hear about any little monster babies running around with half my DNA."

He sighed and looked away. "It wouldn't work. It's me and Sam, for better or worse, and yeah, I know what that sounds like. But... Not me, Sam, and _something else_ , the unholy threesome. Besides, in a day, a week, a year, my dad would find us. And end us." He swallowed hard, and his throat clicked. "I doubt I can make you do anything, either, but I think you should leave." 

He couldn't have said what made him turn his back on her, but Dean did. He agreed that Sam needed him now. Dean crawled into Baby's back seat and took his brother into his arms, careful not to jostle or wake him. The heat waves coming off him were much less. He was still covered in angry red spots, most of them crusted over now. In a few days, Sam's bout with chicken pox would be over. Ellema had fixed his pneumonia, and Dean doubted Sam would remember anything about this night. God, why did this – still – feel like the only good and right thing in life? Dean studied his sleeping brother cradled against his chest, lanky body curled up under his blankets. Sam looked so young and innocent... He _was_ so young, if not exactly innocent thanks to Dean. Dropping a kiss onto the messy mop of hair, Dean vowed to hold him as long as he could. 

* * *

When Dean announced his decision and turned away, SHE knew what SHE had to do. "No, I'm not what I seem," SHE said softly. "But neither am I what you think, a monster." SHE wondered if SHE should tell him that SHE'd only used HER powers to help, but it wouldn't make a difference. "I'll keep quiet and I will not conceive your child, you have my word." His seed hadn't thickened in HER yet, and now it never would. "For what it's worth, you are..." SHE swallowed. He was already a piece of the past. "You were the best thing that happened to me in a long time. Take care, Dean."

The temptation to touch him again and say farewell with a blessing almost overwhelmed HER, but Dean had made his decision and SHE would honor it. SHE got into HER car and drove off without looking back.

* * *

John was still trying to figure out what had gone on at the hospital. Someone – something powerful had put the whammy on him, that much was obvious, but even though he'd realized that, he still couldn't refuse the imperative of clearing out their apartment and driving to the bar the doctor – if she was one – had pointed him to.

Not sure who or what he expected to meet in the bar's parking lot, the Impala wasn't what he'd hoped to find. There was no other car in sight besides a pile of rust that looked as if it hadn't been on any road in at least a decade and therefore didn't count. The woman wasn't there, but Sam and Dean were. Sam appeared to be asleep in his brother's arms, which didn't surprise him except that Sam wasn't fighting him any longer. He must be too sick...

Suddenly scared, John yanked the Impala's rear door open and shouted at Dean, "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

Dean heard Ellema start her car and drive off, and maybe half an hour later, John pull up beside him. He was content to just sit with Sam half on him, the car keeping their combined warmth in. He'd have to be more careful about his 'dates' in the future, and keep his ear to the ground in the coming years about any weirdness going down in the Colorado Springs area. 'Going down'. Yeah, he certainly had, and just about everything else. Whatever else she was, Ellema had been one hell of a good lay. It was really kind of too bad, that she wasn't human and that her stories had been mostly fabrication – he realized that now. He'd felt something for her, for half a minute. 

The sky had lightened to a deep lavender-blue, with pinkish streaks in the east. By the time John yanked the back door open and started yelling, he'd been counting down the seconds. "Dunno, Dad." Dean yawned. That was genuine; it had been a long damned night. Let his dad try to figure this crap out – Dean wasn't going to enlighten him. 

"Last thing I remember is driving to the hospital, and walking into the waiting room in the ER there. Then I woke up here. Why the hell did you take Sam to the hospital for chicken pox?" he questioned. Better to take the focus off him. "So, I guess we're leaving?" 

* * *

So Dean didn't remember what had happened. Something about the statement rang false but before John could question his eldest, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Sam.

"He..." John's eyes felt as if they were about to jump out of his head. "What did she do? I took him to the ER because he was burning up and couldn't breathe. He had some sort of fit when we arrived there and I've rarely seen doctors moving so fast as when they whisked him away. And now... Look at him!"

There wasn't a spot on Sam's face where just an hour earlier he'd been covered by the rash. Instead of raging with fever, he was sleeping peacefully, and his breathing was no longer forced and wheezing but calm and steady.

John's heart skipped a beat. Maybe this woman, this _creature,_ had enough power to help him find the thing that had killed Mary. Maybe it even had enough power to take the curse off Sam. Not that he'd trust it, but it had cured Sam. Furthermore, although it was just a feeling, John was sure the creature had a reason for wanting them removed from the hospital.

Could it really be that simple? Was it possible that, after all these years, they'd finally encountered a supernatural being that could help them? It would be too good to be true, but there was only one way to find out.

"Where did she go, Dean?"

* * *

"What?" Dean startled, John clearly off on some wild tangent that Dean didn't want to be a party to. "She who? You mean that doctor? How would I know?" He couldn't kill her, not now, not when Ellema got them all out of a bad situation with the authorities and had healed Sam. 

And Sam was stirring now, too. Could be just shifting in his sleep, but if not, for him to awake in Dean's arms with their dad standing over them, yelling, wouldn't be good. "Ssh, 'salright Sammy," he murmured, moving to lay his brother down on the seat and get out. 

Once on his feet, he closed the door quietly, and faced his father. "We should go, don't you think? They'd have a record of Sam at the hospital and be looking for him."

* * *

John didn't miss Sam's whimper when Dean put him down on the back seat. Maybe there was a chance of having peace between his sons restored, but right now he needed to act. Dean was right. The hospital would have a record of Sam and he didn't doubt that their patient was already being missed.

"Yes, let's go," John announced curtly. "Follow me."

He got into his car and turned out of the parking lot. As soon as he had Sam settled in a room with Dean, he'd return there. The woman had suggested the place, so somebody might be able to identify her for him. There was the hospital, too, but he'd leave that for later; it was too risky right now. Then, traffic cameras, the ER was likely to have a security cam, too. It meant that he'd need another ride, but that shouldn't be a problem...

A sign on the left suggested that the 'Chipm--k' motel was the last place where he'd want to spend time, which made it the perfect place for him and the boys. While he turned left, John wondered how a motel that wasn't even on the main road could have survived. He wondered even more when he saw how run-down the place was, but again, it was perfect for their purpose.

He parked in front of what looked like the office and stepped out of his vehicle. Dean, right behind, him didn't even attempt to hide his 'Dad, what the fuck' face. John sighed. It was always Sam who was the quick one on the uptake, not Dean. He'd explain everything to his sons, but first he'd get the room.

* * *

If Dean thought his Dad's directions to follow him would lead them out of town and then out of the state in a few hours, he was very, very wrong. Just miles down the road, they pulled into the lot of a run-down motel, from the looks of it worse than the dumpy apartment they'd vacated. Dean couldn't remember when he'd been so pissed. Most of John's half-cocked ideas at least had some foreseeable end result, but not this. His anger burned more fiercely when his dad perused him with that look that confirmed once again his opinion: that Dean had drawn the short straw on intelligence. Maybe he didn't have a Mensa-qualifying IQ but he wasn't an idiot! At the moment, his father was the idiot. But, he kept his mouth shut rather than argue and be put in his place in front of the motel owner, a chunky middle-aged, hot pink-spandex-wearing bleached-blond with her peroxyded hair in pink foam curlers. Dean directed a massive eye-roll to the far dusty corner of the room and banged the screen door on his way out. The only thing this place was going to be good for was catching up on sleep, if he was even allowed that. 

Outside, he leaned against Baby's grill, listening to the ticking of her engine cooling down. Finally, John appeared and Dean straightened up only a little. "What the fuck, Dad? Why are we stopping here? Did... whatever it was... put the whammy on you about this, too?" He dropped his hands back down to his sides, from where he'd been gesturing vehemently, but at that point, he didn't even care if John belted him one. He'd hit Sam; Dean was probably next anyway, just for being born. No wonder Sam had run away. He understood now. 

* * *

Of course, Dean decided to make a scene. John sighed; he really didn't have the time to deal with his son now.

"Dean," he said in a tone of voice that wouldn't allow disagreement, "take your brother inside. Now. Then wait for my call."

* * *

Nothing would deter John from his mission right now. No point in trying. Once John went away, Dean would make his own plan, maybe with Sam's input if he felt better. So far, he had no idea what that might be beyond 'away from here'. At the moment, Dean flipped his eyebrows once and moved around the side of the car to rouse Sam, who lay still in the back. The door gave its characteristic squeak; Dean reminded himself to oil the hinges later. 

"Sam, wake up," he said, shaking his brother's shoulder. All he could see of the kid was his hair, the jut of his chin, and the mole that had just appeared one day a few years back. Between the fever and the long night, the floppy brown strands were getting oily. Although Dean hadn't believed him, John's observation that the chicken pox spots were all but gone proved to be a fact, but he had to feel itchy. Sam was going to demand a shower; Dean hoped it worked. In a place like this, it might be cold water only. "Just need to get into the room, then you can sleep longer." 

When Sam didn't move, Dean assessed how to best get him inside the motel room ASAP. Any delay, and their dad would bitch him out again. "I'll get our stuff first," he said aloud to Sam, loud enough for John to hear him, too, "and if you're still lying there when I get back, I'll have to carry you." 

He hoped that he didn't have to do that. Or maybe, that he _would_ have to. Dean couldn't decide. It would be awkward, carrying Sam's dead weight with those arms and legs dangling everywhere, and the forced closeness might have unwanted side effects, one in particular. On the other hand, he was desperate for what he'd deprived them both of, and would take any miniscule measure in whatever innocuous circumstances he could get. Easier to deny later. 

Grabbing their duffels out of the back of the truck, Dean schlepped them into the room, noticing more fucking brown decor with bedspreads to give circus clowns nightmares, featuring huge multi-color polka dots and pom-pom fringes. He had no idea if they had any clean clothes or if their dad had even remembered to pack things like deodorant and toothpaste. Well, they'd have to make do. With a combination of excitement and dread, Dean left the peeling orange-painted room door open as he returned to fetch Sam. 

* * *

John drove back to the bar, but he realized that this wasn't going anywhere. Why would the woman return here early in the morning? He sat in the car and considered his options. His best bet were pictures from traffic cameras, and there was a good chance that he'd be allowed to access them: earlier during the current hunt he'd liaised with the local PD. He'd call in on them later and ask for the footage of the hospital car park. If that didn't lead to results, he'd try the bar again at night.

Reckoning that the detective he'd spoken to a few days ago would be in his office a couple of hours from now, John decided to not return to the motel. He was still freaked out by Sam's sudden and unexplainable improvement. However, as much as he wanted to sprinkle him with holy water, John knew that Dean wouldn't let him. Then again, Dean would set up salt lines, which meant that if Sam was somehow affected he couldn't run. John hoped that nothing of that kind was going on, but in any event, he wasn't going to listen to his two sons bickering if he didn't have to. 

John yawned and leaned back in the driver's seat to nap until he could drive over to the PD.

* * *

Sam had a dream that Dean was holding him. Someone else had been holding him before and things were a little confused about that, but now it was Dean and he'd hang tight to the dream as long as he could. So when someone tried to shake him awake a little later, he pretended to sleep, hoping that if he told himself that he was asleep, it would actually return him to his dream.

Of course, it didn't work. A little later, the person called out to him again, and Sam almost hit his head against the Impala's door when he recognized that it was Dean calling him. Dean, his brother whom he loved so much that he'd rather die than accept that 'they' were over. Dean, who was looking at him with a mixture of worry and relief on his face that was so raw that Sam wanted to cry.

Then, he took in their surroundings, which looked unfamiliar. "Dean? What's going on, man?"

* * *

"Latest in Dad's long line of crappy motels," Dean replied tightly, though his heart jumped in his chest when Sam opened his eyes and looked up at him, all sleepy and adorable and trusting. The angle was wrong, but it was the kind of look he'd hoped to see on his lover's face when he... when they... "C'mon, we gotta get our asses inside, Dad's orders, then I'll explain. It's been one hell of a night," he added gruffly, offering his hand. 

Certain things, he'd have to gloss over or omit. Sam, logically, pulled a massive bitchface whenever Dean mentioned his conquests. In all honesty, Dean seethed with jealousy at the thought of anyone else touching his brother, now or ever. In that, they were on equal footing. He vowed not to subject Sam to hearing about what he did at night again. 

John didn't wait to see if they obeyed. He just expected it would be so. Dean watched his taillights light up, then the truck made a right turn and disappeared out of sight. 

'Good riddance,' Dean couldn't help thinking. Then he turned his attention back to his brother, who was about to lever himself up. Automatically, as he'd been doing since they were tiny, he raised his hands to help steady Sam.

* * *

Sam frowned. Hadn't they just moved into an apartment? Why couldn't he remember? And why was Dean hovering close as if Sam was going to pass out instead of keeping as much distance between them as physically possible? Dean had said he'd explain as soon as they were inside. Sam accepted his brother's hand, not because he needed it but he couldn't not take it when it was offered. 

The room was as awful as they came, no surprise there. It had a single king-size bed, which meant that they wouldn't stay long and that John would be gone most of the time. It made Sam sigh with relief. Anything was easier when their father wasn't around, even his... non-relationship with Dean.

He sat on the bed, shuddering at the garish cover and the way he sank into the mattress until it almost touched the floor. When he looked up, Dean was still standing, apparently making up his mind as to what to do and to say.

"Dean?" Sam repeated softly. "Please, what's going on?"

* * *

Sam actually took his hand. Dean noted it was a little warmer than normal, which he attributed to being bundled up, sleeping rather than fever. Though disoriented and peering around squint-eyed, Sam was capable of standing and walking on his own, so he didn't hold on long. Still, it was better than him pulling away like Dean was infectious or something. Once through the door, he sat on the edge of the sagging bed, asking in a confused tone about what was happening. 

If only Dean knew. He had Ellema – whatever she was, faith healer, shaman, demi-goddess, angel? – to thank for Sam's expeditious recovery. Even normal chicken pox cases in little kids ran a few days. Dean had come down with it a few months before Sam was born. All he remembered was the intense itching and his mom constantly moving his hands to prevent him from scratching. Though faint, he had a few small, round scars on his arms from where she hadn't been fast enough to keep him from scraping the spots and scabs with his nails. Sam wouldn't have any of those at least. Before, Dad had gone so far as to handcuff him... which was as good a place to start as any in answer of why they were here. 

Though he wished to be up against Sam now, or beside him, Dean sat at the foot of the bed, waiting for a second to make sure the ancient mattress wouldn't give out. Then he tried to make sense of a non-sensical situation for his brother. "Okay, I'll tell you what I know. Last night, you came down with chicken pox. Spots, itching, fever, out of it, the whole nine yards. Dad told me that he'd take care of you himself and to fuck off for the night, so I did, but not before he handcuffed you to the bedposts to keep you from scratching. Any of this sound familiar?" 

Apparently not. Sam stared blankly at him so Dean hurried to finish. "Long story short, a few hours later Dad's calling me, mad as hell, to get my ass to the local ER, which you'd been taken to by ambulance. As far as I can infer, some nosy neighbor at the apartment called 911. Some doctor," Dean winced inwardly at bending the truth but kept on evenly, "helped us. She said that CPS were on the way, and cops. Actually she told me that once Dad was gone. Anyway, she told Dad to go back to pack up our stuff, and he did it, can you believe it!? ...and then we snuck you out of triage. I met up with Dad at the address she named, and I was sure we'd hightail it for Kansas or New Mexico, but no, here we are, like, less than ten miles from there!" He waved his arms again for emphasis, and out of frustration. "Dad took off again, just now. I have no idea what he's after this time, or for how long." 

Yeah, the story sounded more than half-baked but most of the elements contained truth. "Do you remember anything at all about last night, Sam?"

* * *

Now that Dean described it, Sam nodded. "I remember Dad yelling and being mad at me, although that could have been any day, but yeah, chicken pox. Dad taking my temperature," he blushed fiercely, "and handcuffs. After that, not much, and mostly dreams." He wanted to add, 'of you', but wasn't sure how Dean would react to it.

"So, I guess Dad is still on the same wild goose chase we came here for, with the additional fun of having CPS on our asses." He snorted. "And here I was hoping I could go to school for a while."

Looking around in the run-down place, he pondered what else Dean had said. "So, if I was a hospital emergency job for chicken pox last night, where's that now?"

* * *

Now here came the questions. Sam must be feeling a lot better, to spout sarcasm so easily. When he turned red over his own brief accounting of having his temperature taken and events after, Dean's hands clenched into fists as he considered the possibility of... John was more than likely to use threats to garner cooperation. But Sam... Sam was stubborn. "Sammy," Dean burst out, not able to take not knowing. "I'll answer you in a second. Tell me the truth first, did Dad... do anything to you? Did he touch your ass?" 

* * *

Like so often, Dean dodged his question and Sam ground his teeth in frustration. However, when his brother asked him a question, he nearly swallowed his tongue. Dean couldn't be actually suggesting that... Dad...

"You can't be serious!" he burst out. "Why would he touch my ass? He only said that to humiliate me into taking my temperature. Besides, yeah, he handcuffed me, but I'd have kicked out if he'd tried anything!"

A horrible thought entered his mind. "Unless that's... Dean, did he... touch... Has Dad ever molested you?"

* * *

"No!" Dean exploded, feeling himself turning green in the face. Not directly, maybe by proxy but Sam could never, ever know about all that. "Gross! I didn't mean you'd ever let that happen but you were chained up... I never thought..." This was getting out of hand. Already. "Forget it, pretend I never brought it up. I overreacted." He whispered, looking away, "Had to make sure no one hurt you." 

Then, switching gears, hating the suspicious, lip-curled, repulsed look on Sam's face, Dean laughed weakly and rushed to get the conversation out of deep water. "So you got your temperature taken the usual way, right. Maybe I was even still there. So, er, why you're not sick. This is gonna sound totally whack but... That doctor who helped me sneak you out of the hospital came along with us in my car to the meeting point. She, uh, I can't explain it but I think she healed you, somehow." A light bulb clicked on in his head and he sat up straight despite the exhaustion weighing on him. "Oh shit, that's gotta be what Dad's gone after now!"

* * *

"Yeah, gross, ew," Sam agreed, "but you asked first." He narrowed his eyes. Dean's reaction was somehow over the top, but there was something weird about the whole situation, so maybe Dean's uncharacteristic emotional outburst made some sort of sense.

"So this woman," he said slowly. Dean was right: it sounded totally whack. Then again, that label applied to pretty much anything they encountered in their daily lives, Sam thought bitterly. "Do you think she's a good spirit? Like an angel?" 

He had to tread carefully here. If Dean found out that Sam believed in angels, he'd never hear the end of it. Anyway, so far they'd never heard of, much less met, a benevolent supernatural creature. In Sam's experience, there were only monsters, which was why Dad and Dean, and sometimes he, too, hunted them. 

Another thought hit him. "When you say you _think_ she healed me, didn't she say anything? I mean, wouldn't she have told you why? Did she say anything at all? And where has she gone? If she told you to meet Dad here and she was riding with you, why didn't you or Dad stop her from leaving?"

Sam frowned. "He'll be mad as hell if he doesn't find her."

* * *

"When doesn't he find a way to pass the buck?" Dean snorted his off-the-cuff reaction, then shook his head. Sam knew as well as he did that too much negative discussion of John as a father or hunter and the man would pick up it. Somehow. He always did, and then he'd pile on extra chores and training and the sharp side of his tongue. 

"I _think_ that she did heal you. Otherwise you'd still be covered in spots. What I don't understand is how she did it, or why. Maybe the universe wanted to give us a break for once. Benevolent and good?" He shrugged and glanced over at Sam again, wondering just how much he should reveal. "Anything like that in our world is too good to be true. I'm positive now she wasn't human, and no, I don't know what she was. Nothing in any lore we have with us. She, before she left, which was before Dad showed up... she offered to shelter us. At the time, I thought she meant you and me, and I turned her down because it was like..." he sighed, shoulders slumping, "it would only be a matter of time till Dad caught up with us. Now, though, I have to wonder if she meant to shelter Dad, too." Right. If John didn't off Ellema for being a monster outright, the four of them would probably be at each other's throats within a day – Dean could already think of about ten supporting reasons for that idea. Instead he finished with, "We'll probably never know." 

Tearing his eyes away again, Dean flopped down on the mattress, which dipped an alarming degree. If they slept, it would be like sleeping in a large, padded bathtub minus the water. "She mentioned the rash and fever of course. And you were breathing funny. Wheezing, like you used to do when you were little and got sick every winter. But she said that there was something wrong with your heart that she couldn't fix. Apparently I have the same thing. Our only family resemblance." 

Dean smiled crookedly, knowing Sam wouldn't be satisfied with his answers. He flopped onto his side as best he could with his head lower than the rest of his body at the moment and curled up his legs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've been up all night, and need my four hours. Promise you won't run off. You should sleep, too, while you can." 

* * *

Although Dean did his best to answer the questions, Sam wasn't satisfied. It wasn't Dean's fault, he had to admit with a sigh. There simply didn't seem to be any answers. While he wondered what the woman may have meant with there being something wrong with his and Dean's hearts, he felt his brother roll toward him as he fell asleep. 

Listening to Dean's even breathing, Sam lay awake for some time, pondering what he'd just learned and trying to make sense out of it. It didn't work, and the distraction from having Dean so close to him didn't help his concentration. Dean made a snuffling noise in his sleep, and when he shifted his hips closer, Sam held his breath in fear of waking him up.

Tears sprang to his eyes when he thought of how much he'd missed this. Very carefully, he touched his brother's cheek. When Dean didn't move, Sam curled up against him and anxiously waited for a reaction that didn't come. Eventually, he relaxed and fell asleep, too.


	2. Chapter 2

John woke with a start. It was almost nine o'clock and the parking lot was still empty, so he decided to pay his 'colleague' from the police a visit. The inspector he'd spoken to earlier in his 'investigation' immediately agreed to grant John access at the video footage he requested. As it turned out, there was no traffic camera observing the bar and its adjoining parking lot, but the feed from the hospital entrance made his blood run cold.

He thanked the man and drove back to the motel, forcing himself not to break every speed limit. Entering their room, the first thing he noticed was the – unthinkable! – absence of salt lines. A second view revealed Sam and Dean in a pose that could only be described as cuddling.

John saw red.

"Dean!" he yelled and shook his eldest's shoulder hard. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" He reached for the flask in his jacket pocket and doused Dean with holy water, then yanked up his arm and delivered a deep cut with his silver knife. "What are you? And, more importantly, what is 'she'? You have five seconds, four, three..."

* * *

Deep and black, Dean slept like he had been dropped into an abyss, like falling down a well without the sense of falling. 

A bang and incensed yelling startled him awake. He recognized their father's voice before he could open his eyes, and relaxed slightly, but that was a huge mistake. Cold water splashed his face, and a burning slice on his arm told him John had slashed him a good one. Dean jumped to his feet, reflexes on full alert now, and backed away. His sleeve was already bright red with blood. Major artery? He almost hoped so. Enough of this bullshit! 

"What the fucking fuck?" he snarled in return. "I'm me. Dean Winchester. Your son. Same person as for the last 19-odd years." He tried for his .45, another mistake. John had cut his right arm and it was already uncooperative with shock and blood loss, and he couldn't even reach that far before the tendons told him to fuck off. 

"No clue what she is. Not vamp, wolf, wraith, vetala, or shifter. Not human, either. Not entirely." Dammit, he was beginning to remind himself of a stuck record. Defiant, he tipped his chin up. "Not the way she got you to 'obey'. If she's bad, she deserves a chance for helping Sam... helping all of us. If she's good, then she's too good for the likes of us and we should leave her alone." Dean doubted the existence of 'good' beings. Maybe the occasional good deed or kindness. 

He waited, refusing to cringe, for his life to end.

* * *

At least Dean admitted his lie now that John confronted him with it. He opened his mouth to ask more, but didn't when he noticed how Dean's stance was slightly unsteady.

"Stop it with the drama queen act already," he snarled and pulled Dean over to one of the rickety chairs. "It's bad enough when Sam whines, I really don't need you to turn into a girl, too." John ripped a large piece off Dean's tee shirt and tied it around the knife wound. "Just making sure you don't faint before we finish talking," he spat.

"So. Tell me everything and don't bother denying it. I saw you arriving at the ER together. Where did you meet her? What did you talk about?" Suddenly, a thought sprang to John's mind and he narrowed his eyes. "Oh no, she was your lay, was she?"

* * *

Oh, god. Now the delicate balance Dean had struggled with in reference to Sam was tipped. Never had he wanted so badly to physically attack John. But he was hurt now, and his dad berated him for acting like a girl. 

"I'mma be fine." He pushed away from John's so-called field dressing. "You guessed it," he replied in reference to the other question, ending with a cocky grin. There was no point in lying about that – it would just bite him worse in the ass later. Keeping his eyes firmly away from Sam, he stared into his father's mud-brown ones. "Bet you wish she was yours. Shoulda seen yourself drooling over her at the ER."

* * *

John's fist hit Dean's jaw with a resounding smack. "That's for mouthing off. Now. Tell. Me. Everything."

* * *

Well, he had to admit, his old man packed a punch. Dean reached up and wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. A couple of his teeth wiggled in his jaw, knocked loose. "Oh yeah? Feel like a man, now that you've _disciplined_ your child?" he hissed. 

In that moment, his life, not his past life but some fictional version of the future, flashed before his eyes. He'd grab Sam, make a run for it in Baby, head to Ellema's... There'd be no more hunting, or they'd hunt together. They'd do normal things, like celebrate birthdays, get jobs, just live. Just as quickly, Dean knew he was fooling himself. Maybe that's what Ellema was – temptation. Like the serpent in the Garden. Something like a djinn, without the coma and life-drain. But who knew, since he had stayed only part of one night. 

Then too, she'd said she wouldn't have his baby _now_ ; something in the inflection implied the choice was hers and she could have conceived, if she'd decided otherwise. Wasn't that Man's basest need, to procreate? And hadn't he left her with more than enough seed? Yeah, but why would she choose the genetic code of a 19-year-old drop-out? Probably thought better of it.

Shaking, hating himself, Dean sat down again. Silence, other than John's heavy breathing, built up around him. He wanted to spare Sam, but if John got all up in his grill, Dean wouldn't hedge the details. As if his dad was so pure and holy and righteous! He had done things, and made Dean do things, that had a lot to do with who he was today. 

By now, his lack of answer was growing ominous. "Can't tell you what I don't know. But yeah, fine. I hooked up with her. She never came across as anything but a woman till... after." 

* * *

"Whatever she – _it_ – has done to you had better end now," John hissed. It was obvious that Dean wasn't himself, and he was beginning to fear that he might have to knock Dean out until he'd found the monster. His initial hopes that she could help them find the Thing that killed Mary had long been shattered.

"So I'm asking you again to tell me what happened. Keep the details of your sex life to yourself, but other than that I expect a minute by minute report. _Now._ I'm waiting."

* * *

For a second, Dean was tempted to retort with something like, _Oh really? Not all four times?_ If Sam hadn't been there, silent as the grave, he just might have worked up the nerve. 

"That bar, where we met up in the parking lot? That's where I met her last night. The bartender spotted my ID for a fake. I was just about to leave when she walked up and paid him off." From this remove, Dean could see that the alarm bells should have gone off immediately. And they had, but Ellema had taken care of... well, everything. Every time Dean's suspicions rose in the slightest, she'd smoothed everything over. Somehow. 

John was going to be all over him. And maybe he should, but, and Dean kept telling himself this, nothing bad had happened. Somehow, he doubted his father would see it that way.

* * *

"Yes? And? But maybe your brain had already shut down at that time. Didn't it occur to you as curious that a stranger would pay off a barkeep to allow you to drink? What kind of patrons were there that made you look like the greatest contribution ever to mankind – or better womankind?" 

Getting information from Dean was worse than pulling teeth. At this rate, the 'woman' would have vanished before John knew what kind of drink Dean had had at the bar.

"For the last time. Tell. Me. Everything. Now. Unless you want me to think that whatever _she_ did to you requires me to put you down."

* * *

PUT HIM DOWN? John wasn't talking about disparaging comments. Dean harbored no sliver of doubt that his father would put him down like a rabid animal, or more specifically, like something evil they'd hunt. What the hell did he keep asking Dean to tell all for, with the important qualifier to leave the sex parts out? If Dean started rambling on and on about every single nuance of a memory, they'd be there all day, and that would really piss John, who wasn't known for his patience, off further. 

'Whatever she did...' 

"She didn't do nothin', besides, well, you know. But okay, here goes." Dean took a breath and let it out, suddenly nervous that if his narrative wasn't up to scratch with the right details, he'd soon find himself on the floor, bloody and with fatal injuries. He swallowed, mouth desert-dry, and continued. "Scotch, okay? The good, top-shelf stuff. And she laid down five Benjamins for that and for the guy to turn a blind eye to me. I didn't start anything, she came up to me and spoke first. We just talked for a while. Small-talk. I gave the usual cover story: mechanic. And she had a line too, I'm sure it was a line, now. Said her family's of Egyptian decent but they're all dead. Her work was," and he made air-quotes with both hands, "a consultant in 'antiquities'. Like, art, relics. Very high-end, high-priced... stuff. Didn't give much detail. Girl could hold her liquor, though. As far as why me..." 

Sure he'd get smacked again or worse, Dean couldn't help himself. "Dude, have you seen me?" he smirked. 

* * *

This wasn't going anywhere. Dean's insolence was even worse than Sam's. Something was severely wrong with his oldest, and John needed the monster to find out what she'd done. Maybe, once he'd killed her, Dean would return to being himself. Otherwise... he didn't dare to think further and forced himself to concentrate on Dean's reply.

So John had asked about details, but Dean didn't provide anything useful. At least, Dean revealed that she claimed to be an art expert. It was probably a lie anyway, but if the thing had been stupid enough to tell a partial truth about its disguise, John could look it up later. Unless...

"Yeah, I get it," he said acidly. "You're the handsomest man in the universe and 'she'," John indicated air quotes, too, "is perfect. Doesn't sound to me like an Adonis like you would fuck such a rose in the alley behind the bar or the back seat of the Impala. Since you didn't return home to introduce her to us, where did you go for sex? A motel, maybe, or her place? Do you know where she lives? And since she must be desperate to marry you and carry your babies, didn't she give you her number?"

* * *

"Da-aad...!" Dean protested. While he was a fan of the f-word in reference to sex or as general profanity, hearing it from John's mouth in reference to what Dean did with his body put a highly unusual blush on Dean's face. It was like seeing your grandma naked or something, or so he'd imagine. He shuddered. 

And now they were to the part Dean had hoped to avoid more than anything, 'where did you go?' If he lied and said a hotel, John would go there, demand video footage from the staff using one of his fake ID's, and thus discover the lie. If Dean said they'd gone to Ellema's place, Dad would badger and threaten till Dean took him there. The other, unsavory version would be to insist they'd done in the back alley or car. The latter would be a partial truth but regardless, Dean had the strange compulsion that his father not see Ellema in that light. Not to mention, Sam had to ride in that car, too. 

He sighed again. "We drove around a while, on those winding roads along and up into the mountains." Making a vague gesture to the west, he squinted up at the smoke-stained ceiling. "Her house is up there somewhere. Secluded. Not sure I could find it again." He hung his head in defeat. He'd failed as a hunter and son; he lacked the strength to defy his father outright, and now, he was giving up too much intel on Ellema, too. "I blew her off, even though she wanted me to stay – after the escape from the ER. By then I knew you'd come after her – us – and we'd never be safe. Since she helped Sam and all, I let her go with a warning to stay away from us and keep her mojo to herself."

* * *

"And who made you the one to decide which monsters happily roam the world and do whatever they want, huh? Did it even occur to you that that thing has an agenda?" John raged. So the thing had helped Sam, and they should be grateful for that, but Sam was... Not for the first time he wondered how many evil beings were aware of how special the youngest Winchester was. No, John had to hunt that thing down. If it was a good spirit – which he doubted – it was tough luck that it would have to die, but the risk of letting anything live that may know about the curse on Sam, John couldn't take it.

He made up his mind. Dean had an acute sense of orientation. If he said the he wasn't 'sure he could find it again,' it meant that Dean didn't want to find it again. John had to grudgingly admit that his son was fiercely loyal to the creature. It was such a shame Dean was so mistaken about his 'lay'.

There were no traffic cameras aimed at the bar's parking lot, but now that John knew they'd left the place in the Impala, he'd check again. If he could trace the Impala, he might at least find out the general direction of the creature's lair. Furthermore, since she'd rode with Dean from the ER back to the bar, she must have had transport from the bar. Only one way to find out.

"What car does she drive?"

* * *

"Someone has to decide. It's not like she killed or hurt anyone. And really, would you have rather Sam still be at the hospital and we had to deal with cops and/or CPS _again?"_ Sometimes it had been the general state of the boys and their clothes, or the injuries they sustained sparring or hunting. When they were little, it had been because John left them alone so long. Dean followed his instructions – don't answer the door, stay inside, keep quiet – but they'd been kids and Sam got bored, sometimes sick. There was always some do-gooder who decided their situation warranted intervention. At 15, with signs of being chained up on his wrists plus whatever the neighbor had seen, Sam's case would likely go down as sexual abuse, and at Dean's age, still living under his dad's roof, he could be found just as liable. Dean was willing to bet John had never considered that. 

If he lied outright about the car, that would put his dad back into the "have to put you down" frame of mind, either now or later. Pretending he couldn't tell a Beemer from a Mercedes from whatever was a blow his pride couldn't take. He just hoped Ellema knew to stay off the main roads, but at the way his luck was running... "An Infinity. Light-colored but not white, silver maybe?" was the best he could do. It had been dark yet, when she'd left. He could – almost truthfully – claim to only have seen it from one end of the lot to the other. 

* * *

"See, you can be a good boy after all, as soon as you put a little effort in it." John didn't bother hiding the irony in his voice. "Unfortunately, I cannot trust you to remain good, so," he pulled the unsuspecting Dean off his chair and the few steps over to the bathroom where he handcuffed him to the drainpipe, "so I have to make sure you stay put while I do some research. Now, Sam!"

* * *

When Sam had heard his father return and immediately go for Dean, splashing him with holy water and cutting his arm, he decided it would be best to pretend he was still sleeping. The fight between Dean and their father put him on red alert, though: Dean didn't usually contradict John the way he was doing now. Yet, unlike John, Sam trusted his brother. He couldn't believe that their father would really make good on his threat and kill Dean, but there were other means of shutting Dean down. 

Sam wasn't surprised when he heard the clink of metal on metal, just like it had sounded when Dad had cuffed him to the headboard of the bed less than 24 hours ago. When John called out to him, he slowly opened his eyes, and, apparently, he seemed to be convincing enough, so that John left them alone – after emphasizing that Dean was possessed or something similar, and that Sam was not to approach his brother. If he needed to pee, there was the kitchen sink, and for the rest John didn't elaborate. 

As soon as the sound of the truck faded, Sam jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. "Dean, I dunno for sure what's going on here, but I think we'd better find your," he swallowed, "girlfriend before Dad does!"

* * *

Lips pressed tightly together, Dean huffed but let himself be jostled into the bathroom and handcuffed to an exposed pipe. It sucked, but he could find a way to pick the lock later. He heard John call out hurried instructions to Sam not to go near him, and then their dad left the room and took off in his truck. The whole block could've heard how he gunned it. 

Not two minutes later, Sam approached. Dean heard his bare feet on the ratty carpet. Still in his hospital-issue pj's, he looked so young maybe twelve years old except he was too tall to be twelve. When he spoke, Sam outlined the same idea Dean had been mulling over – that they get to Ellema first, before John. Sam referred to her, hesitating a half-second, as Dean's girlfriend. "She's not my girlfriend, Sam," Dean replied softly. "But she is something supernatural and Dad's gonna hunt her. He asked me about her car, and I think we both know what that means: DMV. Would you pick the lock on these things, or get me something so I can?" Dean rattled the metal cuff against the pipe a couple times. Part of their training had been the art of lock-picking, all kinds of locks from doors to cars to, yes, handcuffs. 

"Do you remember anything about last night? Anything at all?" He had to know. If Sam had had more interactions with Ellema than Dean had seen with his own two eyes, she could have... done something... to his brother! She'd said she would let him, Dean, go of his own free will. And she'd promised she was only trying to 'help'. Now that he'd been on the receiving end of his father's highly suspicious interrogation, Dean wasn't so quick to believe there were no ill effects on Sam. "She was with us at the hospital, and in the car part of the time, after. Any of this sound familiar?"

* * *

Sam was already kneeling beside Dean and working on the handcuffs with his tongue between his lips in concentration. "I heard Dad arguing with you and what you said, but I don't remember much from last night. Sorry."

He blushed a little when Dean pointed out that the woman wasn't his girlfriend. Was Dean trying to tell Sam that there wouldn't be a girlfriend because Dean was in love with Sam? Sam bit his lip. It must be wishful thinking on his part.

"What do we do now? How can I help?" Sam decided not to dwell on the girlfriend issue. "Do you really not remember where she lives?"

* * *

"Nah, I remember... Mostly. The roads do get really windy up there, but we didn't leave pavement to get to her house so I'm sure I can find it." 

Sam was down on his knees beside Dean, face all squinched up in concentration as he worked on the handcuff lock. He was so cute like that, tongue working as he twisted a bent-up paper clip he'd found somewhere in the keyhole. As hard as he was concentrating, eyes cut to the side as he used his tactile sense to spring the lock, Dean was sure Sam didn't notice him staring, or hardening in his jeans. God, he was so close; Dean breathed in a lungful of Sam's scent and nearly lunged at him right then, but no, Sam didn't hate him for once, even in the face of there being a woman involved, and Dean couldn't rock that boat. 

"First, we get out of here," he stated the obvious, "but not in your pajamas." Sam had worked the lock open, and Dean rubbed at his wrist, though it didn't really hurt. The gash on his arm where his dad had cut him with the silver knife hurt a lot worse. His arm still felt funny, though that was probably more from the knowledge of what had led up to the event more than any real damage. "Shower quick and get changed and I'll take care of my arm." He held it out to show Sam. "Stings like a bitch. Then... I guess we head up into the hills." 

So far, Dean didn't have much of a plan besides getting there. If he found the place, if John didn't catch them first, if Ellema was even there and let him in... Then what? One thing was for sure: _She_ could handle their dad in a way that neither of his sons could. Besides the fact he was and had always been the authority figure, they were too inexperienced as hunters to stay off his radar, and had little resources. Of course, Dean would have the Impala and all its contents, but he placed no faith any longer in the sanctity of, well, anything. Especially not to do with him. 

He crossed the room and peered out between the curtains. So far, all clear. Or, relatively. It was still early. Rush hour. He would have to keep to back streets, too, till he found the right road west. If Dad was at the cops' or the DMV that would take some time, but they had none to spare. "Just hurry," he said to Sam, who was digging clothes from his bag. "We can talk on the way."

* * *

When Dean commented on his pajamas, Sam wished that the earth would open and swallow him: they'd dressed him in a children's gown at the ER, a silly, colorful, and much too short thing – that left his ass bare. If Dean had noticed – he couldn't have missed that! – he didn't comment on it, for which Sam decided to be eternally grateful.

Dean rubbed his sore wrists, and Sam was struck by the thought that they both now wore handcuff marks courtesy to their Dad. He was, however, immediately distracted when Dean showed him the cut on his arm. Sam flinched. The wound was a deep gash. John must have intended it as a punishment, not only as a test for demonic possession: with a silver knife, even a shallow scratch would reveal whether a person was possessed or not.

"Do you want me to dress it?" Sam asked, yearning to offer comfort, and this was the only means he could think of. Yes, Dean was in a hurry, but Sam could always shower after his brother had left and...

"You... you want me to come with? You really trust me that much?" Sam had to force himself to not give his brother an enthusiastic hug. "I'll do anything you ask me to," he promised.

* * *

"What? Why wouldn't I trust you?" Dean stared at his brother, disbelief in his voice and, he was sure, his face. "Did you think I'd just leave you here in this... this...?" How could Sam think that? "Sam, I... I trust you with my life. You're coming with me." He stared into Sam's eyes for a second. Drawn, so drawn, Dean began to lean in, then suddenly realized what would happen if he didn't look away. 

Instead, he blinked, looked down, and followed the thread of the conversation – barely. "Uh... Dad already, 'dressed' it. Nice job, huh?" he snorted, extending his arm to show the 'bandage' made from his cut-up shirt. "I'll live, and I'd better wash. Change, too." Dried blood crusted his arm, some of it near the cut still sticky. "You go first. If there's any warm water, you should have it. Being recently sick and all." 

Dean didn't have much, but he'd give Sam anything he could, even if it was just first shower. His chest felt tight with how much love he felt, he just, god, how could he even think of being with him right now? Sam was still only 15, they'd only narrowly avoided CPS, and Sam, as far as he knew, still had no interest in becoming a hunter. But hadn't he had all those ideas of getting out of that life? If Ellema could keep John under control... 

First they had to get to her. Why the hell hadn't he taken her number? Habit. And he'd been convinced he never wanted to see her again, just hours ago. Every thought was a confusing dead-end switchback, further muddled by raging hormones. Apparently he'd recovered from the night. Tugging his shirt down, Dean got to his feet and offered a hand to Sam. 

* * *

"Um," Sam stammered, "It's... I haven't been very nice to you," he whispered, wishing again that the ground would swallow him, if for different reasons this time. Hoping that Dean would understand and not further comment, Sam added, "You're right, you'd never leave me here, not when Dad will come back eventually. Jeez, he'll kill me for helping you... He'll kill us both... Guess I'd better hurry with that shower!"

He accepted Dean's hand, which, if he knew his brother, was also a peace offering. "Thanks, man. As for that cut, Dad has completely lost his mind, if you ask me." He shook his head and stepped into the shower. "I'll be quick, promise."

True to his word, Sam broke the Winchester bathroom time speed record. The threat of their father returning and finding that all of his orders had been disobeyed made him so nervous that he dropped the soap twice, but he still managed to get cleaned up and dressed in less than five minutes. Dean had meanwhile packed most of their belongings, and while Dean washed Sam finished clearing the room. They were, once again, a team.

"So where to?" Sam asked when they sat in the Impala, grinning when they slammed their doors simultaneously. "Any chance of grabbing a coffee on the way? I'm starving, but I can hold on if you think there's no time."

* * *

Dean blinked again when Sam half-apologized for being "mean" to him, but he was saved from an awkward conversation by his brother disappearing into the bathroom, long legs flashing under the short hospital gown. Dean shook his head at himself. He'd been too concerned with other things like escaping the hospital and staying alive he'd failed to notice. Just as well. 

The next few minutes went by in a blur of nervous adrenaline for Dean. Refusing to think of Sam naked in the shower, he fought back the urge to peek out the window, and instead, gathered up their gear – not that they'd been there long enough for it to take more than three minutes to pack, if he was dithering. The second Sam was out of the bathroom, Dean took his turn. Cleaning the cut on his arm with soap and water, he cut another strip off his ruined shirt to bind it up. He probably should have had stitches, but what was another scar? 

He and Sam ducked into the Impala and Dean started her up, and after checking both ways, drove out of the lot at a normal speed. Getting pulled over now was not an option. "I can totally relate to needing caffeine, but let's wait till we get a little ways away," Dean answered Sam's request. He'd been up all night, and at the same time felt sleep-hungover from the short nap he'd been yanked from. "I dunno what's up with Dad, either. This is worse than I've ever seen it." 

Pointing Baby south and west, he made his way using roads that weren't the main arteries to where he thought the highway diverged. Turned out he'd overshot, so Dean backtracked a few blocks and tried again. This time he could see where the strip of pavement disappeared behind trees, with the mountains rising behind the evergreens. A gas station sat at the crossroads. The thought of hot coffee nearly compelled him to stop, but he decided against it. "Sorry, Sam, no coffee right now. There are probably cameras in there, and maybe at the lights. I'm going to skip it." Taking the alleys, he went around the light, and by more or less driving through some poor soul's back yard, got them on the road again a few blocks away. 

Almost immediately, it went from city to country, and the road climbed. The terrain looked totally different in daylight. Dean tried to remember distances and approximate times, if they'd made any turns, and so on. Last night, he'd been half-drunk and horny, not paying much attention because he'd been relying on Ellema for directions. Yet he'd made it back to town easily enough. Huh. Monster force field? No, he couldn't call her that. They were trying to get to her after all, and not to hunt her. 

Just when he thought he was lost and was about to turn around, Dean saw a fork in the road. He remembered that. Taking the right-hand 'tine', he reported to Sam, "I think we're getting close." His brother hadn't said much since they'd started out, which was odd. "Why so quiet, Sam? What's on your mind?" 

* * *

They spent most of the drive in silence with Dean concentrating on the road, and eventually commenting that getting coffee meant leaving a trail behind for their dad to follow. Sam agreed that it wasn't worth the risk.

He was deep in thoughts when Dean finally asked what was on his mind. Sam looked at his brother and swallowed. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "Trying to figure out if we're doing the right thing here. I mean, we can't trust Dad, that's for sure, and I haven't met..."

It suddenly struck Sam that he had no idea how to refer to the creature. "What's her name, Dean?"

* * *

Sam confessed being as worried and unsure as Dean... and that meant that Dean needed to up his game. He was the older brother – he would get them through this. 

The words out of Sam's mouth didn't have anything to do with 'them', as he might have expected. Instead, he wanted to know _her_ name. Dean balked, not even knowing why. If he could find her house and she was home, Sam would be meeting her face to face in just minutes. 

Finally, he gave it up, qualifying, "It's probably an alias. She called herself Ellema. Did you... um, meet her somewhere before?" Flagstaff for instance. If Sam said Flagstaff, Dean would flip Baby 180 degrees and be done – that was too much coincidence even for him. 

* * *

"No, I'm sure I've never met her before, but that may not mean much, given that I can't really remember meeting her last night," Sam cringed. "In any event, I can't remember ever hearing that name before," he mused.

"If I were her, I wouldn't use my real name if I met someone in a bar – no offense," Sam hurried to explain. "I just didn't want to call her 'that thing', like Dad. So, Ellema. I needn't tell you that sirens and such can make you do and think almost everything they want you to. On the other hand, I never heard that one of those did something good, like healing me or helping you escape CPS. Okay," he smirked, "CPS probably wouldn't agree with that, but you know what I mean."

Sam stretched his arms; he'd spent far too much time in bed during the past 24 hours. "I trust your instincts and she's kind of proven that she's on our side, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful." He looked at his brother. "Is there anything you haven't told Dad that I should know about her?"

_"Please don't tell me what you did in her bedroom,"_ he added in his thoughts. 

* * *

"Uh..." Dean was glad Sam was more open to the concept of a person who wasn't totally human than John. Well, that wouldn't take much! Anything was better than 'that thing'. He couldn't think of how to tell Sam what he needed to without overstepping the line, but... "She wanted a baby from me," he blurted. "And I was stupid... And... She could have, only she said that she... wouldn't. So I don't think she's a siren." 

Dammit. Dean gritted his teeth and waited for Sam to start hitting or berating him. "Oh. And she's loaded. Just so you're not too surprised."

* * *

"A... _baby!"_ Sam's mouth hung open. "Now, that's a first," he chuckled nervously. "Isn't that the thing chicks usually do _not_ want?" Not that he had much experience in the matter, but for years, Dean had lectured him to never go without protection. He swallowed hard to push the mental image of how women got pregnant from his mind. Yes, he loved his brother and he'd be there for him, but thinking of Dean having sex with someone else was something Sam would never get used to.

"Certainly doesn't sound like your everyday siren," he admitted. "So, what do we do when we find her place? Will she even be in?"

* * *

"Chicks... and dudes, too," Dean agreed. "Other than, maybe buried underneath what our brains know, in some instinctual way." That whole concept made him uncomfortable all over again. He hurried on, watching the side of the road for turn-offs. They had to be close now: his sense of timing said he'd gone about the same approximate distance the night before. "I had a thought: she might be some kind of demi-god. The lore mentions a lot of minor ones, inferring there's too many to name. Well, you might know better than I. They – she – would be ancient, hard to kill, have some sort of agenda, and could still pass as human." 

Up ahead, Dean could see where the road swung around another curve, and at the far end a smaller trail made a break in the trees. He braked, and turned on to it. "Dunno if she's in. Said she was going home, but even if she did it's been a while, she could've left again." He hadn't driven far up the side road when Dean realized it wasn't Ellema's drive. The pavement soon gave out to gravel, other, smaller paths with mailboxes marking most of them branched out right and left. More likely, if he followed this road further all he'd find would be a used condom in the dust. No way he was telling Sam _that_. 

"Strike one for me – this isn't it," he griped, frustrated. "God, I'm tired! Sense of direction said it was here, but I'll turn around and get us back to the main two-lane." Pulling Baby around in a three-point turn, he sped back to the pavement, tires throwing sprays of rocks around curves. He made a left, and continued their sojourn. "Maybe we should just ask her what she is. She already revealed at least some of her power, ability, gift, whatever it is. There are two of us now..." Whatever that meant. Strength in numbers? "You were too out of it to notice, I guess, but at the ER, she told Dad to leave and pack up our stuff from the apartment and he did it. Just like that! No arguments, no questions. I'd call that damned near miraculous." 

Some days, Dean spoke less than he had in the past ten minutes. He'd done plenty earlier, too, when John had threatened his life. "I'm a babbling fool," he muttered. "Or a nut job." Spotting another turn-off, he slowed, then changed his mind – it was gravel again. Poring over his memories, he recalled after their encounter in the car, it had been another ten minutes to her place. This might be trickier than he'd thought. Looking at the gas gauge, Dean's heart stuttered at how close to empty it showed. Less than a quarter tank. Great. They should have stopped, after all. Too late now. 

* * *

Sam was about to reassure Dean that he was neither babbling nor a nut job – if anyone was a nut job it was their father! – when a car approached them. He wasn't as good in recognizing car makes as his brother, but even he couldn't fail to notice even from the distance that this had to be the silver Infinity Dean had described as the... _Ellema's_ car.

"Looks like she found us," Sam stated the obvious: the look on Dean's face couldn't be mistaken. The car slowed to a halt next to the Impala and the driver's side window was rolled down, revealing the most stunning woman Sam had ever seen.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean caught movement through the trees. Ellema's car was fast approaching at right angles to the Impala. She stopped at the junction, and Dean turned into her drive, facing the opposite way. As he cranked Baby's window down, the fresh spruce scent drifted in, and he could hear the hollow purr of the Infinity's electric window control. 

"Hey," Dean greeted her tersely, but he did smile. In her own car, Ellema turned to face him, arm draped casually across the top of the leather-wrapped steering wheel. "There's no good way to say this, so I'll just spit out. You know what hunters are? Well, that's what we do, my family. Me and Sam, we're not here to cause you any trouble but my dad's... Well, let's just say you wouldn't believe the shit-storm that hit this morning once he realized what... That you're... that you put the whammy on him." Just as he hadn't wanted to spill the details to John, he was unwilling to tell Ellema the extent of intel he'd revealed, although he knew he had to be honest now if he expected anything but to be kicked off the property. 

"We left as soon as we could. Right, Sam?" A little breathless, Dean glanced to his right, and chuckled, despite their situation. "Close your mouth, Sammy." 

To Ellema, he continued with a snort, "I guess he thinks you're cute. And, I promise I'll explain, but not here. I was wondering, and I know it's a lot to ask. Can Sam and I hang out for a couple of days?" 

So far, her face remained calm. Demi-gods were supposedly given to fits of temper but Dean hadn't seen that side of her yet. While he spoke, she stared straight into his eyes as if divining the truth. One brow twitched up a bit. Dean squirmed inwardly, unable to look away. Other than from Bobby who was sometimes more of a father than his real one, he'd never asked for help in his life. Plus, he was taking a big chance here, entrusting Ellema with his brother's life and well-being. He only did it because she'd proven herself earlier. He couldn't exactly get out of the car, swagger over and offer his body at the moment, but if that's what it took... Well, she could probably read his mind. 

* * *

HER eyebrows crawled up when SHE saw the classic car on the road. It was the last thing SHE'd expected; Dean had made it more than clear that he never wanted to see HER again. Although SHE didn't know exactly what he was, HER instincts had told HER that he wasn't someone to mess with. Thus, after leaving him and his brother at the bar, SHE'd driven 'home' and packed, ready to leave for a few weeks to give him time to finish whatever had brought him to Colorado before SHE returned. If SHE returned, that was, but SHE wasn't ready to think of the alternative yet.

Dean and Sam waiting at the turnoff to HER place hadn't been on the agenda.

SHE'd promised Dean that SHE meant well and would follow his requests. Although he hadn't explicitly said so, for HER this included not using HER powers on him, not even in self-defense – SHE couldn't be killed, after all. Still, this was going to be interesting, and SHE wasn't sure SHE'd like what Dean had come to say and do.

It took him only a few sentences to explain. Their dad, whom SHE'd already disliked from what Dean had told HER before SHE'd met the man, was on the warpath. In a normal human, SHE'd have shrugged that off, but then Dean revealed that they were hunters. If SHE'd had known, SHE'd have used a memory block on their dad to make sure he didn't let his sons suffer for what SHE'd done. After all, SHE'd only used HER 'voice' in the first place because time had been of the essence. Any explanation – not that it would have been very credible – would have taken too long.

SHE hadn't really expected that Dean and his brother would find the courage to leave their father, but they had. Since SHE deemed HERself responsible for these events, it was now up to HER to grant them the sanctuary Dean had asked for. SHE'd offered to him earlier that he could stay, and even if SHE hadn't already felt the strong urge to help them, SHE was bound by hospitality.

"Follow me," SHE said.

* * *

_"Follow me."_

Dean nodded tersely and mouthed 'Thank you', then pulled ahead enough to get out of the way while Ellema turned her car around. A short time later, they cruised into the drive in front of her house. In just hours, its impressive stature had faded in Dean's mind. Sam was open-mouthed again, but he recovered quickly when he noticed Dean grinning at him. 

Before they went in, he turned to his brother. "I... You know I've never taken up with something we might hunt before. And I promise, I'll kill her before I let her do anything to hurt you, not that I think she would. We're just going to lay low till Dad calms down and we can talk him out of anything rash." He shut off the engine with a twist of the key, and patted Sam's knee. "Okay?"

* * *

Dean had followed HER without a challenge. Assuming that his father was after him and his brother, not to mention after HER, SHE appreciated his quick decision. It didn't mean that he trusted HER completely, but enough to have a working basis.

SHE stepped out of HER car just as Dean killed the engine of his. Again, SHE admired the sleek beauty. However, as unlikely as it was that the boys' father found them here, it would be better if their cars were hidden.

"There's a garage behind the house," SHE told Dean, then returned to the Infinity and drove ahead to show the way. Again, Dean followed, immediately understanding what was on HER mind. What a shame they couldn't be together, SHE thought, they'd have made a great couple. 

After SHE locked the garage door and let them into the house, SHE had a first good look at Sam. The night before, he'd been sick, and when SHE'd made him better it had been dark and SHE'd thought SHE'd never see him before. Now, SHE recognized a keen – and suspicious – mind behind the slanted and slightly narrowed hazel eyes. In contrast to Dean, he wore his hair long, which made him look a little nerdy. Dean had said that Sam loved books, so SHE thought the overall impression SHE got from the boy fit the image Dean had given HER.

Tension radiated off of both of them in waves that made HER cringe. The split with their father hadn't been an amicable one. Dean hadn't said it, but he'd implied that the fight had been on HER behalf, with Dean attempting to protect HER. Just like he was now concerned with protecting HER, and his little brother. SHE nodded to HERself. That was what SHE'd read from Dean's essence, that he'd give his life and his soul to protect others from harm. A warm feeling spread through HER that had nothing to do with sex. Men like Dean had become a rarity in this world, and SHE felt the strong urge to protect him. In other circumstances, SHE'd have laughed, maybe with him, but they had practical concerns to deal with first.

"I know of hunters and I've met with them in the past. Some were friends, some... not quite so friendly. Just like humans in general, I guess," SHE shrugged. "And in response to your honesty, I am human and at the same time I'm not. I'll explain in a moment. Just..."

HER guests looked haggard. SHE assumed that they'd pretty much fled from wherever they'd spent the night. Dean had promised he'd explain, and so had SHE. It was now HER first duty as a host to make them comfortable, then they'd talk. Or, if they insisted, they'd talk first. The decision was theirs, not HERS.

"Now that you're here, would you like to rest first? Eat and drink? Or talk first?" SHE turned to Sam. "Dean mentioned – correctly – that I put the whammy on your father."

Addressing both of them, SHE announced, "I swear that I will not attempt to influence you in any way out of the ordinary human way, as in with arguments. No tricks. If you find that you cannot trust me, I have brought that on myself, but I assure you that I hadn't planned any of this when I met you."

* * *

Before Sam could say anything, Ellema appeared next to his car, telling Dean to drive around to the back of the house, where there was a garage. He'd noticed the building the night before but not exactly what it was. The overhead doors faced away from the back of the house – he knew that now – and he hadn't asked. As soon as they were parked inside with the engines off, Ellema used a remote which she left in her car to lower the doors. 

After they left the garage, she gave them a little speech that filled Dean with more questions than answers. The change in her speech patterns was noticeable. Before, he'd had the impression she was older than she said, and now, nothing of a supposed 21-year-old free-spirited if educated girl showed. He traded looks with Sam, and replied, somewhat cautiously, "Coffee. I'm not gonna be able to rest yet." 

They followed her through the house. With Sam beside him, Dean consciously avoided checking out Ellema's physical attributes. It was simply in his nature to appreciate, even if only to look. Sam knew that, had moaned and bitchfaced about it six ways to Sunday. After a while, when they'd been together, Dean had stopped hooking up with women, because he only needed or wanted Sam. Since their break-up, he'd been on that track again with a vengeance, possibly a vengeance against himself. Ellema admitting she'd somehow coerced him didn't make him feel any better. That, he would demand an answer to no matter how much it made him squirm, because he sensed her pulling him, magically or whatever, was the key to whatever her supernatural racket was. If not a siren, and probably not a succubus because he'd be a lot more than tired after a night with either, then something he needed more information on. Sam could file everything they learned. And Dean hadn't been kidding when he'd said he'd be keeping an ear to the ground in the direction of Colorado Springs. 

But he'd have to handle it with kid gloves, and that wasn't his strong suit fully awake on a good day. Ellema led them into the kitchen and Dean sent a meaningful, longing look at her gleaming coffee machine. 

* * *

There was obvious chemistry between Dean and... _Ellema._ Sam thought it strange that she hadn't introduced herself by name, but given the circumstances she must have assumed that Dean had told Sam everything that had happened. Which was the crux of the matter, really. Sam had a rough idea what was going on, but he didn't know the details – didn't _want_ to know the details of how she and Dean had spent the night. She seemed friendly enough and he was surprised that he actually thought he liked her, but the jealousy he felt was a deep pain, and he was facing the struggle between keeping an open mind toward her and at the same time trying to ignore that Dean had chosen this woman over him. For now, he decided to sit back and watch.

* * *

Dean kept between HER and Sam, and SHE didn't comment on it. If anything, SHE was pleased that Sam had Dean looking out for him; SHE sensed that the brothers, in particular the younger one, had a rocky future ahead. SHE yearned to help, but SHE'd sworn not to interfere. 

Even without using HER powers, Dean's thoughts were easy to read: Sam was first on his mind, followed by coffee. It was almost funny how he sent glances at HER coffee-maker, as if he could operate the machine by sheer willpower. SHE smiled. 

"Coffee it is, then. Would you join me for an improvised breakfast, too? I hadn't expected guests, but I can offer bacon and eggs."

The saying went that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Seeing Sam's eyes light up at the mention of food, SHE knew that it would take more than breakfast to convince the brothers but as a first step toward dispersing their uneasiness SHE thought SHE had succeeded.

* * *

Dean's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and beside him, Sam perked up. He'd been well-fed under this same roof last night, but had since burned through the fuel in a high-stress early morning. It had been longer since Sam's last meal. From tending to his little brother when he was ill many times over the years, Dean knew Sam wouldn't eat when he didn't feel well, in the unlikely event John had offered him anything.

"Yes, please," he answered for both of them. Ellema had him grill the steaks last night so she'd probably trust him to work the stovetop. "I'm no French chef, but I can manage breakfast. Want some help?" 

It seemed a bit like she was stalling. Bacon and eggs wouldn't take long, though. Perhaps Ellema needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts. For that matter, so did Dean. He'd gone from what he'd thought was a random hook-up to springing Sam from the ER, then to that _scene_ at the skeevy motel, and then his and Sam's bid for freedom, or whatever this was. Pillar to post with little conscious thought, all reaction. He couldn't keep living like that. 

Feeling Sam's eyes on him, Dean tried to relax. His brother, so far, hadn't spoken out, but Dean couldn't shake the feeling Ellema's interest in 'helping' was for Sam as much as him. He fought the urge to play human shield – it would do no good. Her lack of fear or even surprise told him she wasn't the least bit worried about their dad or anything he might do. 

* * *

"Please try to relax," SHE said softly, wishing SHE could ease Dean's tension. Sam, on the other hand, was completely taken in by their surroundings, too impressed to even close his mouth. If he was as bright as SHE thought, he'd soon begin to question HER and HER motives, but for the time being, HER main concern was Dean.

"Let's go to the kitchen," SHE announced and led the way, slowly, so Dean could keep HER in his sight at every second. "Your help with breakfast is much appreciated," SHE couldn't suppress a smile. "Since I never got to explain the workings of the coffee-maker to you, could you look after the bacon and eggs? Everything we need is in the fridge. Maybe Sam could help, too, while I make the coffee. Sam?"

* * *

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, I can help." Sam wasn't even sure what he'd just agreed to, but he was ready for almost everything if he got a coffee in exchange for his labor. "This... your place is amazing," he added, eyes still wide with astonishment. "Dean said it was great, but... it's incredible, really." His stomach interrupted him with a loud rumble. 

* * *

There was something sweet about the younger boy, and SHE felt immediately drawn toward him, just like SHE'd felt drawn to Dean the night before although it was a completely different kind of attraction. Maybe SHE recognized in Sam what Dean's child could have been like... 

No, SHE told HERself firmly. Even the thought was forbidden for HER now. SHE pulled a large frying pan from a cupboard and held it out to Dean. He took it from HER hand and SHE turned to the coffee-maker.

"Three large mugs of coffee coming up."

* * *

Taking the frying pan and setting it on the largest burner, Dean set about finding food in the fridge. He'd heard Sam's stomach growl, too. Growing teenage boys ate a lot, and today would be no exception. He laid strips of bacon in the pan where it sizzled immediately, then went to find a plate to put it on when it was done and paper towels to soak up the grease. "I'm making the eggs scrambled, unless anyone objects," he said to the room at large. 

* * *

While Dean went about frying the bacon, Sam took eggs from the fridge and scrambled them in a bowl. Setting the mixture next to Dean on the counter, he asked, "Is it okay if I make some toast?"

* * *

"Sure," SHE replied. To HER surprise, Sam seemed to be more at ease than Dean, but maybe he was a good actor. SHE offered the first cup of coffee to Dean, announcing it was "for the chef." The next went to Sam, and the final one was for HERself. After adding a generous amount of milk, SHE laid the table, not missing that Sam stayed close to his brother.

"Right, let's eat," SHE said when Dean slid the bacon and eggs onto their plates, "and then I'm afraid we need to have a serious talk."

* * *

It all went by fast, the cooking, the coffee Ellema handed him. Sam was soon occupied with the toaster, but Dean kept an eye on him anyway. It was incredible what a difference it made when Sam wasn't angry with him, like ominous storm clouds had lifted. Born and bred in Tornado Alley, forces of nature had their sway on Dean's awareness, and sometimes it was almost like Sam was his own force, although he could write that off under how close they all lived out of each other's pockets day to day, and the degree he cared for Sam. There was something off about John's interactions with Sam, Dean was beginning to realize. Not just the constant bickering, and certainly not the same kind of messed up it was with Dean, but like their dad didn't even think of Sam as his own kid, didn't love him, didn't want him, wasn't proud of him. And he always looked at Sam weird. Like he was infected. Geez. It must have been the chicken pox still fresh in his mind that made Dean grasp at that adjective.

Soon Dean was dishing food onto plates, which they took to the dining room. No remnants of their dinner in the middle of the night remained, neither had they in the kitchen. Ellema must have used some of the intervening time to clean. Unless she used some kind of magic to do it. That hadn't come up, but Dean would ask if Sam didn't. Sunlight flooded the room, and he noticed sparkling crystal in cabinets in the corners, as well as the heavy draperies and the carving of the matching furniture. They were eating off stoneware dishes now. Even that was nicer than they were used to, but he appreciated the casual settings.

Downing another gulp of the strong, fragrant coffee, Dean sat and dug in to his eggs. After he'd had several bites, his stomach felt less like a yawning void; the caffeine was kicking in, too. He'd heard all too well Ellema's pronouncement they had to talk – one of his least favorite things, whether he agreed or not. Exchanging a glance with Sam, Dean wondered what his brother's mind was digesting right now. 

He decided to take the reins, at least at first. "I spent the morning trying to convince my dad of all the monster-type things you are NOT. That was quite a list. So if, as you said yourself, you're 'human and not' then what... Could you elaborate? I gotta know. I mean..." He made a helpless little gesture in the air, looking at her directly. Dean assumed she probably could read his mind or at least body language over the things he couldn't say in front of Sam. "I was with an alien? A nephilim? Personally, I have you down for demi-goddess, but you tell me. I mean, please, if you will." Yeah, it was blunt. Could be she was something they'd never heard of. Dean chomped on a piece of bacon and waited, bouncing his knee nervously under the table. 

* * *

SHE'd already had some food earlier, but SHE joined HER guests for breakfast anyway. If HER original intention of a shared meal had been to put Sam and Dean at ease, SHE was pleasantly surprised by the food. "This is very good," SHE smiled. 

Except for a quick nod from Dean, neither of the brothers reacted, and SHE didn't blame them. Especially Sam was digging into his bacon and eggs as if he hadn't eaten in days – what with his recent illness, that was likely even true. Furthermore, he was a teenager, and if SHE estimated right, Sam would eventually outgrow his older brother by several inches, so SHE wasn't surprised that he was hungry.

SHE turned HER attention to Dean while outwardly focusing on HER scrambled eggs. Watching him watch Sam was fascinating. There was so much love radiating between the two brothers that it made HER heart ache. When SHE'd taken care of Sam's fever, SHE'd done HER best at drawing out the darkness that was eating him. If the relief SHE observed on Dean's face was any indication, maybe SHE'd succeeded a little. Now that SHE'd seen them together, SHE felt the same darkness in Dean, only deeper and better hidden, but SHE'd promised SHE wouldn't use HER powers on him again. Maybe once they'd talked, SHE'd offer to help, but for the time being that was out of the question. At least, Dean would benefit from Sam feeling lighter, SHE told HERself.

While Sam stuffed his face, Dean only managed a few forkfuls of bacon before he began picking at it and spoke up. The moment of truth, then. What he said confirmed HER initial evaluation that he had a sharp mind, which made HER smile again, if wistfully. The short chapter of HER life called 'Dean' was over.

"Unless you're referring to your State's terminology which declares any non-US citizen an alien, I'm not one," SHE said dryly. "At least I don't think of myself as that. Neither am I a Nephilim. As for what I am, exactly, I'm not sure, but I guess your estimate of demi-goddess fits somewhat." SHE met his eyes. "I've been around for a few millennia, and I've met a few beings who described themselves as gods. Please believe me when I say that I hope I'm not one of them. Then again, does anyone actually know the exact definition of a god?" SHE snorted.

"I have powers. You won't be surprised when I tell you that anyone and anything with power tends to abuse it. I'm no exception to that rule. Although I loved the humans I was living with, I became corrupted, like many of my, let's say 'family' for lack of a better word. Eventually, I had a moment of clarity and decided to use my strength one final time to end our, what you'd call supernatural powers." 

SHE sighed. "It worked. My family were mad at me, and so were the people I wanted to protect from us. They hated me so much that they didn't kill me but exiled me from my country. Ironically, it turned out that I regained my powers as soon as I left my home soil. All I wanted was to return home, lead a normal human life, and die a normal human death, but I couldn't. My people had strong curses that would have been passed on to my offspring back then. So I roamed the Earth for a long time until I was reasonably sure that nobody at home remembers the old ways enough to harm me."

"Dean, what we... talked about, I was going to return to Egypt and have a family. Now that that is not going to happen, the only purpose I currently have in life is making sure that you and your brother are safe."

* * *

Sam tried to concentrate on the conversation, but now that the food hit his stomach, he was getting tired again. What Ellema said made some weird sense, but he was no longer convinced that any of this was more than a fevered dream. Still, he was away from Dad, Dean was smiling, and they had nice food in a nice place. If it was a dream, he wished it would go on for a long time.

* * *

Ellema's history was almost unbearably vague, though Dean tried to store every little detail. Sam was still funneling food into his face, eyes beginning to glaze over. Today he might not be up to acting as resident brain, what with the impending food coma, but Dean was happy to see his appetite. He smiled a little in his brother's direction, then turned to match wits with Ellema, who leaned forward, no doubt waiting for his questions. 

No expert in the ancient world, Dean couldn't draw any similarities between what she presented as her story and what little he'd picked up of that era. It almost sounded like the Titans and the Greek gods – powers, family, fighting – but she was from Egypt and presumably predated those legends. "So... Your powers returned to you after you left your home country. Wouldn't they be removed again simply by going there?" Then he recalled something she'd told him the previous night. "You said you've been back to Egypt. Obviously the home schooling bit wasn't true but I can see you putting yourself though university. When you were there, on your home soil – well, if you were – were you able to use your powers then?" 

If he could help her find a way to 'beat the system' and get around the problem of eternal life, Dean would. He almost felt sorry for ruining her plan. Although he was grateful, he also couldn't really see what she might do to help him and Sam beyond what she had. "So far, we know about the healing and the, er..." 'mind control' sounded too rude, even if that was what it amounted to, "power of suggestion. What else can you do?" 

* * *

"Power of suggestion and healing," SHE blushed a little when SHE said it since it included adding to Dean's potency, something SHE was sure he wouldn't want to discuss in front of his little brother. "Then, there's reading people, although that's partly an acquired skill; I had lots of time to practice," SHE snorted. "I can't read your or anyone else's thoughts, although I get, for example, that you're not completely satisfied with my explanations – but how could you be?"

SHE grimaced. "Try squeezing a life time of a few thousand years into a couple sentences over breakfast, you get the idea. I'll be happy – okay, maybe happy isn't the right word here, but I'll answer your questions, just thought I'd give you the nutshell version first."

Returning to his questions, SHE resumed, "The home-schooling wasn't a total lie. I was taught by good people, they just weren't my parents, but, yes, it happened in Egypt. I already had a good background in Egyptian history, as you can guess, and after all this time away from home, the longing became too much. There was a period in the early twentieth century when women could, in a minor position, explore ancient artifacts and I traveled under the guise of an archaeologist's secretary. Once there, I was quickly accepted as eccentric but harmless. Scientists love to babble about their work, and they provided my formal education. So much for that part of my history."

SHE sighed. "About returning to Egypt, it's painful. I'm a normal human there without my powers, and the things going on there, in particular what's done to women, I can't be there and not want to help. Ironically, I can do more from outside of the country. Maybe my life is cursed, after all."

* * *

"Sometimes I think we're cursed, too," Dean replied softly, gesturing at Sam and then himself. "My dad didn't start hunting until after our mother died, but she came from a family of hunters. That's all he'll say. He met my grandparents but they died before Mom and Dad were even married. So who knows what family secrets come down from that side." 

He sighed. Ellema's dark eyes flicked between him and Sam constantly, like she couldn't stop looking at them. She'd been sizing them up all during breakfast. He wondered what she saw, or thought she saw. Was she able to tell how things were between them? "I don't know much about what's going on over there besides constant wars, famines, and religious strife," Dean went on. He was hardly the person to comment on women's issues. Many would find him a misogynist, but he had no problems with women doing whatever they wanted, including jobs people even now considered masculine territory. It was just that he went for the pretty ones – because he could – and he had no interest in any 'relationships'. In another time and place, if he wasn't so damaged by his past, if there'd never been a Sam, he could feature himself with Ellema. But there was no point in trying to fit that into the here and now.

"I guess the next question is, then, how do you propose to help us, since that's what you want? 'Making us safe.' Just letting us stay here a little while, feeding us: That helps. We have no reason to ask for or expect more." He hitched a laugh, and ran a hand back through his hair, turning his head to the side and staring out the window. "But we can't stay forever. Eventually we'll have to either deal with my dad or avoid him forever." 

* * *

"Well, your summary didn't miss much. Constant wars and religious strife are tearing my country apart, and there isn't much I can do about it except try to advocate human rights from the outside. Some call me a hypocrite, but returning and becoming a martyr won't help the cause, so I won't." SHE shrugged.

"Which makes me want to help you all the more. I understand that you didn't exactly plan to leave your father behind, and that you and I meeting led to this situation. I may not be the primary cause of your issues but I provided a significant contribution and that makes me at least in part responsible. With food and shelter taken care of for the moment, let's figure out what your next most immediate needs are."

A glance at Sam made HER smile: hunched over, the boy looked as if he was about to conk out in a nose-dive on his plate. "I'd suggest that offering this one," SHE nodded at Sam, "a place to rest would be a good start."

* * *

Streams of words had flowed through Sam's brain for a while now, becoming more and more disjointed, when a change in Ellema's tone suggested that she was talking about him. It cost him a great effort to open his eyes – which had almost closed without him even realizing – and focus them on Dean's face.

"Huh?"

* * *

"Sacrificing yourself to save someone else's life is noble," Dean countered uneasily, shifting his shoulders, "if it's life or death, like, in the moment. Doing it to create a scene or make a point would just be stupid. A waste. So yeah, don't do that." He considered her version of how he – they – wound up in the present situation. Ellema didn't know every single detail, either. How could she? "No, we weren't planning to take off on our own. Not even this morning. Not until..." Dean slid off his flannel and showed Ellema his arm, clumsily bandaged. "Dad decided I was... I dunno, infected or something. Then I realized he always treats Sam like that. And I didn't want him to hunt you. So, enough already." 

He followed Ellema's gaze to Sam, who was dozing in his chair, chin in his palm where he'd propped himself up with an elbow on the heavy wooden table. Sam must have sensed their attention. Lazily, like he was stoned, his slanted, multi-colored eyes opened to half-mast and he slurred out a, "Whaaa?" 

Laughing, Dean said, "Hey, sleepy-head. You're about to face-plant in what's left of your eggs. Wanna sleep in a bed, maybe?" He was presuming, he realized, and directed a quick aside to their host, "Or the couch is fine if you don't have a spare room." There had to be plenty of rooms on the two additional floors upstairs, but he didn't know what they might be furnished as. Last night, he'd had no opportunity to snoop. But he sure as hell hoped that at least one room contained an extra bed somewhere, even a single or a cot, anything, because the couch probably still smelled like sex even if Ellema had cleaned up their juices. Dean's ears burned. He suppressed the urge to jump up and go check.

He was saved by an almighty yawn. Despite the coffee, exhaustion was crashing down on him, too. "Sorry! I'll get him bedded down and we can keep talking," Dean stated, mostly to convince himself. "Gonna need more caffeine." 

* * *

Something in HER turned warm when Dean confirmed that HER self-sacrifice would be a waste. "Thank you," SHE said softly. "Coming from someone who knows about sacrifice, this means a lot to me." 

Just then, Sam asked what was going on – or so SHE guessed, since what actually came out of his mouth was more of a grunt than anything else. SHE joined Dean's laughter for a few seconds, and it felt good.

Thinking for a moment, SHE offered, "I have a guest room on the ground floor as well as several rooms upstairs. I suggest you take the downstairs one in case we get surprise visitors." Turning to Dean, SHE elaborated, "I'm prepared to deal with your Dad, but you never know. The window of that room faces the garage, which would give you a head start if you need one."

SHE got up from HER chair. "You look done in, too, Dean. It's okay if you'd rather rest. Otherwise, I'm confident that there's enough coffee to keep you awake for a while." SHE winked. Despite their situation, SHE still felt a connection with Dean and hoped the easy flirtation would lighten their mood a little.

* * *

"I'll just get Sam settled," Dean replied. He honestly didn't know what he wanted more, sleep or not. The room was starting to waver before his eyes, but yet he wanted to talk some more. If John located them, whatever happened next could be flight-or-fight, or for certain, nothing would be the same if he was there no matter what Ellema did to subdue him or alter his thoughts.

Not having noticed where the rooms they had not been in might be, Dean raised an eyebrow, then stood and stretched, rising up on his toes and flinging his arms out wide. Like he half-expected, Ellema was checking out his body; he grinned a little and looked down. The sight of his sleeping sibling, floppy hair covering most of his face where he leaned forward, was enough to make Dean forget any self-awareness. 

"Sam, get up, just a little way and you can sleep." The words were reminescent of the previous night, and again this morning. Until they got adequate rest, though, neither of them would be good for much. Not getting a response beyond a sleepy grumble, Dean reached down and lifted Sam out of his chair, slinging his arm over his own shoulders. "Walk, boy," he snorted. "One foot, two foot." It was the closeness that always got to him. Well, Sam's. Hell, he'd been 'close' and naked with Ellema not long before and she stood observing them just feet away, and Dean didn't even care, he felt like they were safe here, in an alternate reality. If she really did want to help, then at least she wouldn't hinder him in his pathetic attempts to soak up whatever he could get.

Within two minutes, they'd made it down a short hall, into a room with a bed and miscellaneous other furniture, one that had the lonely atmosphere of being used rarely. The bed was only half the size of Ellema's but more than big enough. Dean got Sam into it and under the covers, first pulling his shoes off. "Sleep well, Sammy," he whispered and kissed his brother's forehead. Sam flopped over on his stomach and snored softly.

After that, Dean crept back out into the hallway with Ellema. "So. Coffee? There's something else I wanted to know."

* * *

Watching Dean's love for Sam when he put him to bed had made HER heart twist again. SHE'd felt that the younger brother returned it and that they both suffered deeply from it. It was so wrong! Love should be celebrated, regardless of who the lovers were. However, two men, hunters, brothers, one of them considered minor by the law, SHE knew that there was no way these two could live out their emotions, at least not for a long time.

SHE had the coffee ready by the time Dean returned. SHE also had an idea of a plan, but that depended on how things would evolve. 

"Yep, coffee," SHE smiled and slid his cup over. "And questions, no surprise there. So, go ahead and ask."

* * *

"Thanks." If the world as they knew it ended, one of the things Dean would miss the most would be coffee. He could tell that Ellema's was of the finest quality and fresh; his gratitude right then was profound. 

"I was trained to make a call in a split second and not second-guess myself. Being back here, after I told you no about... things... goes against everything I know," he began, not even sure where he was going with this. "If you ask it of me, as payment, I... I will help you _if_ you will promise you'll lead a normal human life and age and die. I have to wonder why you'd want that. Despite being taught it's unnatural, when it comes right down to it, I'd choose to have power, immortality, all that. Maybe after a few thousand years, it's different, though." He wasn't stupid. First one's family and friends would get old and die, then their children, and all the people met along the way. Just in the past 150 years, the world had changed unbelievably. After millenia of what Dean would call primitive living conditions, 'today' had to be alien to Ellema, though she had certainly acclimated herself. 

"Since you read people's body language if not minds," he took a deep breath, and let it out. It felt like his heart would burst, it was beating so fast. "I guess you've caught on about me and Sam. I... I love him. And not just as my brother. For almost two years now, and we were together but I," great, his voice was going all hoarse. Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, he wanted more. Everything. No matter what anyone said. As much as I want it, too, I couldn't do it. He's 15. Legal is 18. Not to mention our dad would kill one or both of us, and I mean literally. So we had a huge fight, broke it off. For like a month now, he's hated my guts – he even ran away and Dad and I had to track him down. We came to Colorado right after that, on some lead or other. Since she died, my dad's been hunting the thing that killed our mother... It was about that." 

"Anyway," Dean had to wrap this up before he himself ended face-first in his mug, "since you can... What? Manipulate thoughts...? I want to be with him. If I can get Sam to agree to the same, can you – will you – erase that from our minds, after?" Surely his face was flaming red. He'd never told anyone about 'them', had counted on keeping it secret till he died. And the request itself was outrageous. Ellema had been his lover, if for only one night and he was asking for her help! Help to have sex with his brother, to be blunt. Only, it wasn't just meaningless random sex. Not to them. On the flip side again, this was her place, and he proposed to contaminate it with what most of the world would consider his sickness. 

Silence became a wall around him and between them. "I'm sorry," Dean whispered. 

* * *

SHE thought for a long time before replying. "Have you never wished for a normal life?" SHE finally asked, gently. "You're not the first hunter I've met." Most had wished to be freed of the burden that was set upon them, but hardly anyone had succeeded in escaping their literally bloody fate. 

"I've wanted to lead a normal life, to age and die, for a long time now. Ironically, I think that you and I have that in common. But since you... kind of... offered... I need you to know that I will never ask of you anything that you can't give freely. There's no payment required whatsoever. I meant what I said, that bearing your child would be my fulfillment, but I also meant it when I swore to you that I will not carry your child against your will." SHE smiled sadly. "Free will in this world is a treasure, but I was raised in the old ways and you can trust my vow to honor your decision."

SHE drew a deep breath. "You and Sam, I wonder how anyone can not see the love between the two of you. You two are soul mates, meant for each other. He doesn't hate your guts, but you know that," SHE met Dean's eyes. "Pretending he hates you is the only way for him to deal with his feelings unless he dies of a broken heart. I'm not saying this to hurt you. Look into your heart and you'll see the truth."

Taking Dean's hand, SHE continued, "I can manipulate thoughts, make you and Sam forget about what you did, but not what you feel for each other. If I make you forget about time spent together at this place, you need to know that there's no way to return the memories without my help. Are you sure that that's what you really want?"

SHE smiled. "Which ever your answer is, you should never be sorry about what you asked."

* * *

"In my world, there's no such thing as a free meal," Dean replied. He'd heard that sickening little platitude from his dad and Bobby his whole life. "I have a hard time believing you but... Neither am I calling you a liar. For once in my life, it's like a miracle I can tell you these things and hear you say you see it, that you get it. It also means that out there in the real world, I'll have to be even more careful." 

He thought of his brother, lying alone right now in a stranger's house. Well, not a stranger to Dean. He couldn't deny that he'd felt some connection, some spark with Ellema that he couldn't write off as her 'ability'. "Yeah, I wish for a normal life sometimes, but could I handle it, knowing what I know about what's out there? Doubtful. Maybe some day." 

Another yawn forced his jaws wide. Dean looking up, seeing understanding in Ellema's eyes. "Right now, Sam and I aren't going to do anything but sleep. Later will come the choice – for him. If he can't agree to the eraser treatment, then I won't... Well, you know. But if he does agree that it's necessary to forget once the deed is done, for our own good, then I am sure. 100 percent. Yeah, of course I know he loves me. Like I do, him. Please don't say he'd die of a broken heart, I couldn't stand it. You'd find me on your doorstep again, asking for another undeserved favor." 

Abruptly, Dean stood up from the table. "I'm going to him now. You shouldn't need earplugs, if at all, for several hours. If you would, for all our sakes, be watchful around your place, with your security system if you have one or your... awareness." He needn't say again that John might turn up, although he was hoping for at least a couple days respite. "You know where to find me. We'll talk again, I'm sure." 

* * *

"Before you go," SHE hesitated. "Your arm. You're bleeding through your makeshift bandage. Will you let me help?"

* * *

"I am?" Since he'd shown her the wound earlier, Dean hadn't given it another thought. By the time he'd reached his teens, he'd learned not to whine about his injuries, or be told to shut up, suck it up, stop being a baby. Or, a girl. Sure enough, when he looked down at his arm, Dean noticed the dark red splotch on the piece of his old t-shirt tied around his arm. The wound was throbbing.

"That'd probably be the best," he agreed. "Don't want an infection, or to bleed on your sheets." 

* * *

"Don't worry about my sheets," SHE assured Dean. Looking him in the eyes, SHE said, "I can offer you a dressing or I can take the wound away, whichever you're more comfortable with."

* * *

Despite how tired he was, Dean instantly went on the alert. "Take the wound away? Like heal it? Tempting, but no. No funny business." His lips quirked. "Again, I have to thank you for taking care of Sam. But I'd be a hypocrite if I asked you to stop with the supernatural stuff and then took advantage of it for something this minor. Just bandage it. Or I can do it." 

Best get it over with. Cleaning the wound would be painful, but needed to be done. Dean wondered why he was bleeding so much – usually, his cuts and scrapes clotted quickly. Could be he needed more vitamins and minerals. Rabbit food wasn't his thing. He extended his arm on the tabletop, working the so-called dressing John had slapped on him at the motel off. "Ick. This should be burned." Dried blood wasn't especially appealing, and it attracted bad elements as much as fresh. 

* * *

Dean's refusal stung, but SHE had expected it and understood. "We can burn it on the grill," SHE suggested. "And if you're wondering, I've treated my share of injuries over the years." Smirking at him, SHE pulled a first-aid kit from a kitchen drawer. "Don't worry, I won't subject you to what was considered state-of-the-art wound care a few centuries ago."

Indicating that Dean should join HER by the sink, SHE carefully coaxed the makeshift bandage loose. The cut underneath was straight and looked clean, but it was still bleeding. Dean seemed to have decided that SHE wasn't about to cripple him, and he didn't comment when SHE gently cleaned the wound. Although SHE didn't use HER powers, he barely flinched – which made HER cringe because it implied that he was used to this kind of treatment. 

After applying antibiotic ointment, SHE taped a thick gauze pad over the wound, then wrapped a bandage loosely around it. "That should give you the most comfort."

SHE gathered the used supplies and met Dean's eyes. "I'm going to burn this now. You can join me if you insist." 

* * *

"Twentieth-century wound care, please. Late twentieth century," Dean amended. "Oh, and I was mostly kidding about the burning, but we can if you want." Ellema knew her way around a first aid kit, he had to give her that. She wasn't scared to do what was necessary, and her fingers were strong and sure. Antibiotics were a marvelous invention. A hundred years ago, people could die from wounds like his, if they got infected. Ellema likely knew that better than he. 

Soon Dean was patched up and while he couldn't be comfortable till the injury healed a little, he was more than grateful – again – for Ellema's care. "Thank you." Hesitating a second, he moved in and hugged her. 

* * *

Surprised by his move, SHE, too, hesitated for a second before hugging him back. "You're welcome." Thinking quickly, SHE let go of him after a brief moment although SHE yearned to remain in Dean's embrace until the end of time. 

"I'll go burn this now," SHE repeated. SHE sensed that SHE needn't elaborate. Although SHE couldn't read thoughts, Dean's discomfort over the used dressing lit up like a beacon in HER non-visual perception. 

SHE touched his cheek. "Go to Sam," SHE whispered. "Your brother needs you now."

* * *

Dean had no reserve of energy left for drawn-out thanks. Ellema knew. He turned and walked to what would be their room, where he let himself in as soundlessly as possible, locking the door behind him. Sam was still in the same position, face-down, sprawled everywhere. Dean just looked at him for a minute. God, he loved him. Every inch, every mole, every one of his brain cells and bitchfaces. 

It was so quiet out here. Peaceful. If only this were their place, a home base. Undressing down to his t-shirt and boxers, Dean crawled in, Sam's heat embracing him for all that his brother didn't so much as twitch. Too exhausted to do anything but curl around the lanky form, Dean fell asleep the instant he stopped moving. 

* * *

Dean woke up entirely disoriented. The bed lacked the lumps and saggy middle of most of the places they stayed, and overall, the place smelled nice, like lingering breakfast food and... Sam. His eyes still closed, there was no mistaking the scent and warmth of his brother's body, the back of which Dean was currently plastered to. Cracking one eyelid, he estimated the time at early afternoon. He'd slept his four hours and then some, deep and dreamless as far as he could remember. 

And speaking of which, this was Ellema's place. Her palace of a house. The events of the night and morning rushed into his waking consciousness. She'd given them food and shelter, tended his wound and then that thing, which he still couldn't believe he'd suggested or that she'd agreed to, that he and Sam would, only now in this place be with each other and she could make them forget. It was ironic, that he couldn't accept Ellema healing his skin but he'd ask for and take her help with something he should never want, much less have. 

But she'd agreed. And he was selfish enough to do it. Now Dean needed to get Sam to understand, if he didn't sidetrack himself first with the need rising in him. Trying not to disturb his brother's sleep just yet, he curled the arm wrapped around Sam's waist a little tighter. The flutter in his belly and balls lit him up on the inside. A rush of blood slid south. More. Was Sam hard in his sleep? Dean needed to know, and he needed to touch. 

Needed, but he held still, throbbing against Sammy's tight little cheeks. 

* * *

Sam could pinpoint the exact moment when Dean awoke. Even deep in his sleep and although the mattress didn't sag, he knew when his brother had joined him in bed: there was no mistaking the sudden heat, not only temperature-wise – despite Dean being the one who usually claimed that Sam was a furnace – but also the warm feeling that rose in Sam's heart and belly. Regardless of how tired Sam had been, he'd tried to stay awake, to make sure to not miss a single second of Dean breathing against his neck, his heartbeat hitching every time Dean snuffled in his sleep or changed position – moved closer – to Sam.

He'd lost all sense of time. Only being here with Dean counted, and a part of him hoped that Dean would never wake up. Maybe here, in a demi-goddess's house, that could happen if he only wished for it hard enough? Sam felt tempted to seek out Ellema and plead their case, ask her to find a way for them to stay together. However, that would have meant getting up, and he just couldn't bring himself to leave his beloved brother.

Dean snuggled even closer, and Sam could barely suppress a gasp: he'd been hard as nails ever since Dean had joined him in bed, but so was Dean. Pressed against his back, Dean's erection sent heat flares through Sam's entire body. Dean's hands were on Sam's hips, pulling him tight, and suddenly, Sam couldn't take it any longer. Dean would kick him out of their bed the moment he realized what Sam was doing, but maybe Sam could treasure a few seconds of intimacy before that happened. If Dean believed that Sam was still asleep, he wouldn't blame his little brother for having a vivid dream, right? In particular not when Dean was spooning him in this fashion.

Yawning softly, Sam shuffled his hips and pressed back against Dean's groin. "Mmnnnnuuhh... feels gooood..."

* * *

"Sammy..." Dean murmured. Though he'd resolved otherwise, his hand refused to listen when his brother wiggled against him. It glided down Sam's stomach to his groin where the heat increased by several degrees. He shouldn't touch, no he shouldn't but the side of his wrist bumped the unmistakable ridge of a hard-on behind Sam's zipper. Dean's hips jerked forward, rutting. Pre-cum dribbled from him and if he was dripping then Sam... 

With a low groan of both victory and defeat, Dean closed his hand over the rock-hard erection in Sam's pants and kneaded it. "Have you grown again?" he whispered inanely. It felt to Dean like his entire body was erect, from his dick to his nipples to every tiny hair follicle. "God, Sam, missed this, missed you!" 

Jittery with want, his balls painfully full, renewed by sleep and time, Dean nuzzled into the back of Sam's neck, inhaling the scent of him. He nipped there a little, sucked at the skin till there had to be a mark while he slid his free hand under Sam's side and up under his shirt. Soft and taut, the tanned skin kissed his fingertips. He could feel the sharp cut of Sam's hipbone, the contours of his abs, how they shivered in his wake; higher up, peaked little nubs that made his brother gasp when touched. Little hitching, whining noises welled up from Dean in time to the rolling of his hips. If he didn't say what he needed to now, he never would.

* * *

It had to be a dream! Not only was Dean _not_ kicking him out of their bed, but he moved even closer. What may have been a sleep-induced search for friction from Dean's side turned into frantic rutting accompanied by the most delicious moans and gasps. At the same time, Dean's hand crept forward and found Sam's erection. Only a second later, the tentative touch turned to determination when Dean stroked Sam through his jeans.

"Growing for you right now," Sam moaned. Pushing back against the hardness behind him, then forward into Dean's hand, he felt himself leaking slick. Strong fingers found their way under his shirt and when they rubbed and pinched his nipples into hardness, Sam knew he was about to lose it, come in his pants like he hadn't done since he was 13.

"Dean, please," Sam begged, beside himself with need. Whatever was happening to them might be his only chance in life to get from his brother what he wanted more than anything else in the world.

* * *

Whatever coherent words Dean had meant to say got stuck in his throat when Sam writhed against him from two directions and begged. Fire-hot urgency shot through him. "Sammy, god, naked," he hitched, not wanting to move away but he wasn't really, unbuttoning and unzipping Sam's jeans and shoving them down. Just as quickly, Dean shed the remainder of his own clothes. Every part of his body seemed to be throbbing, but more than his own satisfaction, he needed Sam's 

"Turn over," Dean demanded, voice gruff. "Wanna watch your face when you cum for me." 

* * *

Dean still didn't kick Sam off the bed. Dean announced that he needed Sam to be naked, and he followed up on his words by undressing Sam in the matter of a few seconds before divesting himself of his own clothes.

Sam decided to not try and figure out what was happening. For a fleeting second, he wondered if his brother was possessed, but Dean was so... _Dean_ that the thought was immediately purged form his mind. No, this was Dean. _His_ Dean. Maybe Ellema had done something – had she recognized Sam's love and was sympathetic? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Dean, his beloved Dean, was here with him, right now, naked and needy.

"Yes," Sam gasped, "and no. I'mma turn over so you can watch my face when I cum for you, but I'mma cum on your dick, not your hand."

* * *

Dean closed his eyes for a second, mouth open and panting; he had to reach down and squeeze his balls at the base to keep from losing it over Sam's pronouncement. His brother's soft skin and lithe limbs brushed against him as Sam turned over to face Dean. A flush graced his cheekbones, slanted eyes boring into Dean's already blown with lust. Instinct took hold of Dean, the need to rut. He pushed Sam onto his back, rolled on top of him, nudged himself between Sam's long legs, and pressed their groins together. His ached for friction and he moaned as they slid in each other's slick. "You're gonna do it, Sam... Gonna cum on my dick and then I'm gonna cum on yours." 

Dropping his head down, Dean licked the side of Sam's neck, then down to his erect little nipple. Waves of pleasure burned through him; he let go of any restraint and rolled his hips again and again with snapping little jabs that made the ridge around the head of his cock skip across Sam's. Below, his brother came apart more with every move. It wasn't going to last – they were too far gone already. 

"Do it, Sam," Dean rasped. He knew he could cum any second from the incredible rub of hard dick against hard dick. But he had to see it, see Sammy cum, see it in his face and see his brother's spunk coating him. Rising up, he took both of them in hand and stroked Sam's long, uncut shaft and his shorter, thicker circumcised one, giving a twist to his wrist right under the heads. "You gotta let it go, don't you? Get it all over me..." 

* * *

By the time Sam realized that this wasn't what he'd meant to ask for, he was already coming, and every intended word of protest was lost in ecstatic moans. His upper body reared up, his chest meeting Dean's, while he shot what felt like gallons of white-hot jizz between them.

"Oh god, Dean," he finally managed, his body still shaking and spasming. "Need you to... _nuuhhhh!"_ Another streak burst from his slit. "Cum for me, Dean!"

* * *

Fevered command or wish, it was granted to Dean in the form of Sam grinding against him, keening wordlessly and rearing up against his chest, soft skin and hard nipples searing new sense memories. Between them, hot silky fluid poured out in several almost violent bursts. His own moans turned desperate as he held Sam's shaking body through it, till when his brother called for him to cum for him, too. Even if he'd wanted to, Dean couldn't hold it back. 

"Love how you cum... god I love you, Sam..." His orgasm exploded between his legs and in his brain. Dean arched, grabbed Sam's hip with one hand and his own dick with the other, aiming as best he could to shoot sticky-wet heat directly onto Sam's junk. "Mess you up..." he growled, "mark you mine, little brother." The sight of his own semen dripping off Sam's balls, smeared into his wiry pubic curls and streaks of it catching on the tiny veins along Sam's dick and on the cuff of foreskin only ripped more from Dean. Every drop of seed his body could produce spurted out, till suddenly he was desert-dry, still cumming in agonizing ecstasy. Finally it was over. He collapsed heavily onto Sam, shuddering like he was freezing. 

Dean came back slowly. All the things he'd needed to say before this happened, and he hadn't. Rolling off, he stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath.

* * *

Even though he was still caught in the aftermath of his own climax, Sam could only stare in awe when Dean let it go. Somehow, his brother managed to direct the flood all over Sam's sex, balls, dick, everywhere. While he was moaning and growling, Dean admitted his love for Sam and how he marked Sam as his. "Yes, Dean, yours, I'm yours, forever," Sam whispered. He was afraid that Dean would hear him, that the dream would be over. 

Whatever had brought this on, Sam didn't dare to hope it would last. Eventually, Dean collapsed on top of him, wrung as dry as Sam, then he rolled off. Sam's breath caught in his throat and he tried not to make a sound. Dean was staring at the ceiling and he appeared to be deep in thoughts or otherwise absent.

His heart beating madly, Sam extended a shy hand for his brother. "Are we..." he swallowed. "Please, Dean, are we good?"

* * *

Sam's voice asking if they were okay, so small and hesitant wrenched Dean's heart again. For all his recent illness, his sibling was a tall, fit, intelligent and headstrong young man, and the contrast was killing Dean. When Sam's hand found and grasped his, Dean twined his fingers through Sam's and ignored the cooling jizz.

"Yeah... But... You know, Ellema, right? Lady who owns this place? Cured your case of chicken pox last night and all that?" He didn't elaborate on anything that led up to or followed that event. "You were asleep in your plate when I talked to her today. She has powers. We already knew about healing and... influencing people." 

This wasn't going to be easy. Now that Dean had won Ellema over in his favor, he expected the worst from Sam. Sam wanted 'them' so bad he was willing to face cops and CPS and their Dad, which until he was 18 for sure would end in their separation or worse, but he couldn't see that. 

Turning on his side, Dean made himself go on, to spit out the contingency in which they could be together. "If you want this, us, we can have it here but before we leave this place, Ellema's going to wipe it from our memories. The sex. If you can agree to that, then... Then, yeah, you're mine. For a little while. Whatever you want, as many times as we can. But out there in the real world, once we leave we can't and it's better if we don't remember..." Perhaps it was the ultimate form of shoving things under the rug, and Dean hated the lie they'd have to continue to live. That was the thing; he wanted Sam to live, have better than hunting and their shitty little lives and him. 

Yep, Sam's face was squinching up and his eyebrows pulled down, furrowed in the middle. The shit was going to hit the fan; Dean braced himself. 

* * *

Sam frowned. Deeply. Although Dean had denied him, Sam had been sure that his brother desired him as much as before he'd put an end to them. Now Dean agreed, but... the condition... It didn't make sense.

"Why?" he asked. "Why do we need our memories wiped? Besides, it won't help as long as she doesn't wipe our love, too. Is that what you want?"

* * *

"It doesn't matter what I want. She said she can..." Dean tried to remember the exact terms Ellema had relayed, "take away memories but not feelings." He paused. "It's fucking torture to love you and not be together. Even so, I wouldn't want her to take the love away." Discussing it with an actual chick was one thing. To say it to a guy, even Sam, made Dean's ears burn. 

"Why?" Trailing his feet through the ultra-soft sheets, Dean was determined to answer Sam's questions, which he normally evaded half of. "Because... They'll be able to see it and smell it all over us. Or we'd slip up. Can you even imagine if Dad knew? He wouldn't like it, to say the least. We've been over this, Sam. All the 'they's' of the world would tear us apart – in my book, it's better if we agree to it between ourselves, like men, and maybe someday, when you're older, if we're still around..." He shrugged. "If we can't remember having... You know. It still hurts like fuck but it's less to have to deal with trying to bury."

It didn't even make sense to him, why they didn't just say fuck it and leave forever. He knew no other life, and the leaving would be only for as long as John's tracking skills took to catch up. Dean had backed himself into a corner but good and there was no way out, only a moment of respite, if he could convince Sam. And if not, he couldn't blame the kid, not at all. 

* * *

"Then why can't she make us forget that we're brothers? Or make us forget Dad, and more importantly, make Dad forget us? The rest of the world doesn't matter, we hardly ever use our own names anyway."

Sam moistened his lips. "If we're ever together, then I don't think I want to forget that, Dean. Please. Do you think me wanting you will hurt any less if we do it and I can't remember? At least I'd have the memory."

An idea occurred to him. "Or she could make only you forget if you don't... want... to remember. I promise... I swear I'll never speak about it, not even to you."

* * *

Dean was proud of Sam's ability to conjure alternate solutions, and also frustrated to the point where he was tensing up because he could think of no good arguments beyond what his level of experience told him was possible. They could forge papers and run, never contact Bobby or their dwindling hunter contacts again, but Dean was convinced something, somewhere would catch up to them. He said as much. 

As for Sam keeping the experience to himself, "Really? You'd want to remember while I'm totally clueless?" Shaking his head, Dean considered what that would be like for him, if the roles were reversed. "That's all manner of fucked up, and by that I mean self-flagellating. If either of us, it should be me who has to bear that, because the way it is... is worse for you. Only because I was the one who stopped," he amended. "I did that so you could have a chance in life. To have a life. If you can't see that..."

Yeah, he was lame, and they'd waste this chance. Maybe he should just let Sam think he'd changed his mind, get Ellema to do her thing anyway, and be done with it. But Ellema was all about free will all of a sudden. Falling silent, Dean flopped onto his back again.

* * *

Sam thought for a time that felt like eternity, but he couldn't come up with anything they hadn't talked – and fought – about before. "Dean," he finally whispered. He put his hand on his brother's belly and scooted closer. 

"I want you. All the way. If having to forget about it afterwards is the only way I can have you, I will. But... Can't there be some way to recover our memories? Later, when we're adults. Like you said, maybe someday, when I'm older, if we're still around..."

He swallowed. "Maybe Ellema can, like, set, I dunno, an expiration date? So that in ten years or so it returns to us?"

* * *

Dean felt Sam's hand on him before he heard him speak. His body surged but he made himself listen. "I-I don't know if she can do that," he answered truthfully. "We can ask. In ten years..." Hell, it could wreak havoc on them if they weren't together, or on the survivor if one of them died. But, it was also a light at the end of the tunnel, the only one Dean had seen yet. "That's actually kind of brilliant." He laid his hand over Sam's for a second. "Do we want to ask her about that now? Or later?" 

It would be disrespectful of them to present themselves coated in each other's spunk before Ellema to ask for further favors. Of course, they could wash but he'd know. It mattered more to him that Sam got his answers, though, now that they had a tentative accord. Then he remembered something else, thanks to Sam's lightly callused fingers stroking the little strawberry-blond hairs of his happy trail. Diving off the bed, Dean grabbed his jeans off the floor and went through the pockets till he found his always-present tube of lubricant. Grinning, he tossed it on the bed. "Up to you, but I vote for later." 

* * *

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice suddenly hoarse when his eyes fell on the tube in Dean's hand. "Definitely later."

He hadn't missed Dean's reaction to his hand. If already such a relatively innocent touch made Dean's body surge, the thought of what else would happen soon almost made Sam swoon. He let his hand slowly wander down his brother's treasure trail, tactile sense on high alert, as he felt every single one of the soft – much softer than his – hairs that led to what Sam wanted most in the world.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," he muttered. "And now that we are, I can't decide whether I want to draw it out forever or hurry up so no one can get between us."

Sam licked his lip, pink tongue tip flicking over the suddenly dry skin. "I wanna kiss you so bad," he whispered and leaned in over Dean. "Please, can I?"

* * *

The second he climbed back on the bed, Sam continued where he'd left off, his fingers combing through the narrow trail of hair leading downward from Dean's navel. His dick was trying valiantly to meet those long, sensitive digits, filling slowly. Taking Sam into his arms, Dean looked into his eyes, seeing in the blown pupils and hazel-green-blue rings around them the incredible depth of love that no one else could ever possibly feel for him. To say he felt the same was a massive understatement. Besides lust, the caring, protectiveness and _belonging_ outweighed anything he'd felt for any other person at least ten-fold. The huge swell of emotion would swallow him whole if Dean wasn't careful. 

"Of course you can kiss me, Sam." That had never been off-limits. While Dean had a lot of tactile sensitivity in his lips and got hot on using his mouth almost as much as from using his dick, he understood that kissing was personal, intimate. But wasn't that him-and-Sam in a nutshell? Their lips met and Dean moaned like a needy sylph while Sam slithered against him. Licking across the seam of Sam's mouth, Dean trailed his hand all the way down Sam's long back to the rise of his ass, then, opening his mouth to let Sam's tongue in to explore, he spread his fingers out over one tight butt cheek. It hadn't escaped his memory where his brother's favorite source of sensual pleasure could be found. 

When they broke apart to gulp in air, he pushed his nose into Sam's neck, inhaling him as new sweat broke on his skin. "Can I... Is it alright?" His fingertips inched closer to Sam's crack. Just the thought of the tiny pink furl brought a droplet of pre-cum up his inner tube where it clung to his slit before dripping onto Sam's belly. "Please..."

* * *

They kissed, slowly at first, tasting each other, exploring, relearning. It was only a few weeks since Dean had stopped everything between them, but it felt as if centuries had passed. The sense memories hit Sam like a hammer as he rediscovered Dean's mouth. His lips were tingling in the most exquisite way he could imagine when Dean traced them with his tongue, then kissed along them before tentatively resuming his own exploration of Sam's teeth and tongue.

Sam was already moaning softly when Dean's fingers found their way down his back till they reached his butt and ran down his crack until... He whined when the fingers drew to a stop before they could touched his secret place where he wanted them so much. Instead, his brother kneaded his nether cheek before he hesitantly inched closer to Sam's fluttering hole, then asked for permission.

Witnessing Dean becoming almost shy went straight to Sam's heart as well as to his dick – not that he thought he could get any harder. Then, the very second he had that thought, his body proved him wrong when a clear dew drop slowly fell from Dean's tiny slit on Sam's belly. He wanted to lick it up, but was so awed that he couldn't move.

The plea in Dean's eyes deepened. 

"Yes," Sam breathed, scared to speak out loud and destroy the moment. "Please touch me, Dean. _Touch me there."_

* * *

Permission, invitation, and Sam's need infused Dean through and through. "I'll take good care of you, Sammy..." He promised hoarsely, reaching for the lube. Sam's breathing hitched at the promise of having his hole loved, smooth flat chest flushed darker than his usual tan. He looked totally beside himself; Dean was almost paralyzed himself at the prospect of having to choose how they'd proceed. 

He fumbled with the cap of the lube for a minute, but once his first two fingers were coated in slick, any indecision flew out the window. "Hook your leg over mine," Dean instructed while reaching around Sam's waist, then lower. This time he didn't stop short of his – their – goal. The puckered entrance pulsed under his fingertips. At first, Dean just stroked across it, pressing into the heat and tightness only fractionally. Sam's eyes rolled back; a spurt of pre-cum wet Dean's abdomen. There would only be more. 

Taking Sam's mouth in a more heated kiss, Dean worked his index finger through the ring muscle, then further. Before, Sam had taken as many as three fingers and he loved this, so Dean wasn't worried about hurting him. Yet. Moving his finger in and out, he mimicked the motion with his tongue. He hadn't forgot it, per se, but it always amazed him, how that responsive, fluttering, entirely alive orifice flexed and released, clenched and practically sucked him in. His dick, totally hard now, twitched every time Sam squeezed. His brother was gyrating unconsciously, just a little, the motion a suggestion of sex. 

"You want another?" Dean gritted out when they broke the kiss again for oxygen. 

* * *

Finally, _finally_ Dean slicked his fingers and, after moving Sam to gain better access, began to prep him. The first touch was so soft that Sam wondered if he'd imagined it, but soon the feathery grazes turned into a gentle rubbing. He tried to press back and speed things up; Dean was really taking his _fucking_ time with him!

Sam's dick began to leak floods of pre-cum, and his moans became continuous, interspersed with sharp gasps whenever he thought that Dean would finally breach him. His eyes were beginning to water with need when his brother kissed him again, and then Dean finally slid the tip of one finger inside him. Immediately, Sam clenched around him, dizzy with anticipation. So far, it was a single finger, but he was sure that Dean would stretch him well before Sam's pleas to have the thick cock inside him would have any effect on his brother.

When Dean began to slide his finger in and out, Sam thought he'd faint with the sensation. Dean's tongue mimicked the motion in his mouth, and Sam sucked on it, urging it to go deeper. Eventually, Dean got the message and complied, with his finger as well as with his tongue.

By the time they had to break the kiss for lack of breath, Dean also withdrew his finger, and Sam whined. He felt tempted to ask Dean if he was serious when he asked Sam if he wanted another finger, but he wasn't sure if his brother would react with teasing him and delaying: if Sam knew one thing for sure it was that he didn't want to – wouldn't survive to – wait any longer.

"Yes, please," he gasped, breathless from the kiss and from the burning need spreading from his lower body.

* * *

Dean broke out in goosebumps and a grin at Sam's reactions. He wasn't whining in anything but a good way – yet – but it was obvious from the continuous dribbles of slick and the tightness of his sac how bad Sam wanted it, and wanted it now. "Impatient?" he teased. Not that Dean really needed an answer. His own lust raged though him, centering his groin and butt at the moment. 

He'd got a 'yes' and Dean wiggled his middle finger in beside the first, still trying to take his time with the stretch but his body was clambering again, too. Waiting till Sam was spread out, moaning and tossing his head, Dean withdrew. "On your back," he ordered, giving Sam's shoulder a little push. The lube had rolled somewhere but Dean knew they'd need it so he pawed around in the bedding till he located it. His hands trembled, as he envisioned what they were about to do. 

More lube for his fingers. Breathe. Dean moved to cover Sam with his body, jostled his legs wider, reached down, touched that virgin entrance again. Even with some prep, it still looked so small. "God Sam!" His brother looked up at him, half-scared half-daring, and Dean slid in three fingers, pulled at the rim a few times till it fluttered again and the pressure eased. It still wasn't as wide as him but he figured he owed it to both of them to pry the final stretch on his dick. Coating himself, Dean hissed and held back the need to stroke it. Another minute and he'd do that within the slick clasp of Sam's body. He blinked the sweat out his eyes and pressed himself forward into the heat.

* * *

Sam tried to take in every second of the loving stretch Dean gave him, but it still felt as if no time at all had passed when Dean was lying on top of him with his wet erection pressing against his entrance.

"Dean!" Sam answered his brother's exclamation. His heart beat so madly that he had to suppress a hysteric giggle at the thought that he might pass out before 'it' finally happened. 

"Dean," he repeated a second later when the crazy thought had passed and his whole being was concentrating on feeling Dean slowly pressing inside his body. At first, it didn't hurt at all; then, when the thick head spread him wide open, there was something he'd rate as a ten on the weirdness scale, but it wasn't actual pain. Or maybe it was pain, but masked by ecstasy caused by his by now totally haywire body chemistry. Weirdness, maybe pain, Sam doubted that he could find words to describe it, but it was the best sensation he'd ever experienced.

And then his eyes refocused on Dean's face and Sam was lost: the expression on his brother's face told him that Dean's sensations were possibly even deeper than Sam's, which pushed his pleasure up another notch that was immediately mirrored in Dean's eyes.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and held on to him, determined to never let go again.

* * *

Sam's face slid through a range of expressions too quick and fluid to catch or name. He called out Dean's name a couple times, not like 'stop' but more like wonder, maybe awe. When the widest part, the flared ridge of his glans pushed through the tight, slick, round vise of Sam's hole, a fleeting shadow of pain raised his lip, but was soon gone. Long arms wrapped around Dean and held on to him tight; Dean took Sam into his arms as well, bracing himself on his elbows. He made sure to go slow, ready to stop but Sam asked for no reprieve, just opened up for him little by little till when Dean bottomed out, he was in as far as he could go. 

"Sammy..." he whispered, eyes on his brother's, which almost scared him with the intensity of love reflected there. Dean had never had another male under him – it was different, his brother's long, whipcord body, the erection throbbing against his stomach. "This... This is where we love each other," he rasped. Dean meant the physical act, here and now; he also meant it would never change, no matter if they were forced to forget or hide it or whatever happened. 

Arching his back, Dean pulled out slowly, not all the way because he never wanted to get out again. Sam squeezed so tight! His dick was already crying for mercy, swelling against the compression. "You ready?" It was more warning than question. Dean shoved his hips forward, and then again and again. Bending his head down, he covered Sam's lips with his. They rocked together, moving freely, his back muscles bunching, hips twisting, and their skin brushing with every thrust. After the shaky and tenuous start, Dean let himself do what he knew he was good at. Every curl of his body, that was his love, his need to be loved. 

Below, Sam let out a string of grunts and other noises, like his breath caught and pulled back into his chest repeatedly, that Dean had never heard from him before and it made him less restrained with his own vocal expression, too. Somehow, some day, he'd tell Sam just how much he loved this: strong hands on his body, those lean thighs cradling him, Sam's jutting hipbones and hard, flat chest. His tongue in Dean's mouth. The scent of him. For now, Dean just moaned through it. He wanted – needed – to make his brother scream and lose it. In theory or with a finger, he knew where to touch Sam on the inside to do just that. Along with his hole, Sam's prostate was a source of orgasmic response. Now if Dean could just hit the correct angle... 

* * *

"Dean! Dean! Oh god, yes!" Sam was moaning and writhing under the onslaught of physical and emotional sensations. He felt as if he was close to drowning in the pleasure, and for a moment he feared it would become too much: after years of yearning, he and Dean were now experiencing the ultimate closeness two human bodies could share. 

Aware that it was only a matter of seconds until Dean's dick would kiss his prostate and he'd be lost, Sam tightened his arms around his brother. "Dean," he whispered feverishly. "Can I... I want... I need..." Overwhelmed by the signals from his lower body, Sam's brain had difficulties forming the words. "Can we... just a second... I... wanna feel you all the way in me," he managed to blurt out. "As deep as you can, and then hold it for a second? So I can feel how you fill me all the way..."

Another surge of ecstasy coursed through him. "If you want that, too, do it now, Dean, or it'll be too late. I won't last once you touch my spot..."

* * *

Sam's request to stop moving shouldn't have turned Dean on so much, but it did. Hormones rampaged his system, but Dean overruled them. "Whatever you want..." he murmured, burying himself deep and then staying there. His lower body protested the delay of direct stimulation but Dean wanted to fulfill Sam's wishes any way he could. He even understood the sentiment – his brother was asking for time to simply feel their joining, before the headlong rush to orgasm. 

So Dean held himself still, poised above Sam, sheathed within his body. Dropping his head, he licked along the tendons of Sam's neck, nipping the pulse point. So much salty skin; Dean only kept from running his hands all over it now because Sam asked to savor the moment. That his brother got off just on the sight, touch and being filled all the way by him – Sam's words – amped Dean way up. "Got you, little brother, filling you full of dick, and I'm gonna cream in you, too. When you're ready." 

Because he was directly on top of him, Dean could feel how hard Sam's balls had grown. The smallest rub against his sweet spot was going to set him off. 

* * *

Dean stilled his motions and time came to a stand-still. Sam was so awed by the depth of their connection that he expected to break into tears. It suddenly hit them how close he and Dean really were, had always been, and that the physical love they shared was but a fraction of what they really felt for each other. He didn't know why he'd never recognized it that strongly before, but now that it was there, he'd never forget it, regardless of Ellema and her tricks.

Sam shivered when Dean licked at his neck and talked to him dirty. With his heart and balls close to bursting, he couldn't clench around Dean. The barely perceptible move made him moan and gasp as it sent delicious tendrils of pleasure through him. Dean was so close to pushing him over the edge, physically and emotionally, that tears ran from Sam's eyes.

"I love you so fucking much, Dean," he whispered.

* * *

"I know, Sam, I know." Unexpectedly, Sam's eyes grew shiny, welled up and spilled over. Dean blinked in surprise. Sam very rarely cried, hadn't much even as a kid. Well, having John Winchester as a dad was an effective preventative. "It's okay. I love you, too." How many times had he said it? Not enough to ever satisfy him.

Dean too felt stinging pressure in the corners of his eyes, not sure of he should be horrified or even more aroused when his own tears dropped warm and wet on Sam's cheekbones and lower. He froze, sarcastic comment about them being little girls dying on his lips. No, not girls, they were men and they were in love and it was no one's fucking business if what they felt ran so deep the only possible release was to cry. 

But then there was that other impending release, too. Dean's belly and pelvis felt congested, his thighs about to cramp with holding back. The clench around his dick brought a whine to his throat, and he spurted pre-cum, so much he could barely stave off the real thing. If it was like this for him, Sam had to be hurting so bad to come. But Dean waited, licking the evidence of his overflow from Sam's face in little swipes, for a signal. 

* * *

"I know you love me and I know that you know that I love you," Sam whispered back, struggling to form the words. His body's needs were threatening to take over, and they would, soon. It wasn't that he didn't want them to get lost in their shared ecstasy, but he wanted the moment to last. 

"Its, I dunno, I always loved you, but this, now, it feels different. Like, it's all that matters, you and I. And, it's so much more than sex although the sex is incredible, too, always was and now it's so much better..." 

Sam shook his head at his rambling and grinned at his brother. "Since you don't like chick flick moments, you know there's only one way to shut me up, right?"

* * *

"You can talk later," Dean replied, arching his back _at last_ to pull back. He had some idea how to move now to rub against Sam's spot and he shifted his angle. "For the next ten seconds, just shut up." 

He showed his teeth and plunged, slamming into his brother hard enough the make the headboard smack the wall. "Fuuuuck! Can't stop, Sam!" And he couldn't other than if Sam were to ask him to, but Dean hoped to god not or he'd have some of the bluest balls in history. Again he dipped down to take Sam's open, panting mouth, while he poured all his energy and strength into his thrusts. The combination of the slick, tight grip around his dick as he sunk himself again and again with this being Sam, the person he loved more than anyone, more than life, had him close to losing it. Reaching under Sam, Dean grabbed onto his ass to pull at him harder. "Nnnngh! God yeah, oh fuck, Sammy please cum!" 

* * *

Sam opened his mouth to protest when Dean announced he should shut up for ten seconds, but the moment his brother started moving again, Sam knew that it was going to be three seconds – until he began to scream out his release.

Dean reamed him hard, telling Sam he couldn't stop, and if there was anything that might have turned on Sam more than Dean being unable to stop fucking, thrusting, slamming into him, it hadn't been invented yet. 

"Deeeeeannuuuhhh..." What started as a scream when Dean landed the first direct hit on Sam's prostate turned into a needy wail that didn't stop until his balls finally released their flood.

It felt as if he was cumming not only once, but again and again and again, and one more time. When the sharp bursts from his slit became a trickle, Sam couldn't help but sob; his balls felt as if they'd been turned inside out, then sucked dry with an industrial strength vacuum, and finally wrung out by a giant with steel hands.

He murmured one final time, "I love you..." before his body went slack and refused to respond to whatever his brain was trying to tell it.

* * *

There'd been no need to ask him – order him, beg him, whatever – to come: Sam screeched Dean's name and spurted endless strings of warm seed all over himself. "'S right, Sam, let it all out!" His own peak so close he could taste it, Dean pistoned in and out a few more times, till at last release burst upon him and his balls spasmed so fiercely he thought he'd pass out. Shoving up inside Sam as far as his hips could seat the base of his dick, Dean moaned loud, almost pained, and shot his load deep. Sam had wanted to be _filled_ , and Dean's only regret was that he didn't have more fluid to offer, though it was probably more intense for him that his balls had to work so hard to produce those extra drops. 

When he could no longer hold himself up, Dean collapsed, twitching, draped across Sam's sweaty body. "...Love you, too..." he managed.

* * *

Smiling to HERself when SHE heard the first groan, SHE decided to blank out further sounds from the guest room. SHE wasn't a voyeur – or ecouteur, in this case – and besides, there were important things to do: the boys' father was a hunter, and assuming that he was the one who'd educated Dean, it was only a matter of time before the older Winchester would find HER house. There weren't many experts on Egyptian art in the region. If Dean had shared that information, John Winchester would already be on HER tracks. Furthermore, Colorado Springs was well covered by traffic cameras, and if John tracked the Impala, he'd be on HER doorstep before SHE could get the boys out safely.

Speaking of the devil: just when SHE'd made HERself another cup of coffee, SHE heard a whining growl from the space in front of the house. Nodding to HERself, SHE was impressed. The man was good. It didn't mean that he was welcome, though, but SHE had a lifetime – thousands of lifetimes – of experience in pulling the wool over people's eyes, including hunters.

A quick lowering of HER shields suggested silence from Sam and Dean's room. SHE didn't waste time with knocking on the door.

"Dean, it seems that your father has found us sooner than expected. Please trust me to handle this, stay here and keep quiet until I return." SHE looked at him pleadingly and waited for his response.

* * *

At some point, Dean flopped onto his back beside Sam, although his memory of doing so was fuzzy at best. He was just considering investigating some method of clean-up when someone knocked on the door. Instantly on the alert, Dean tensed but didn't move. Ellema's voice called through, and then she opened the door far enough to stick her head through. Sure he'd locked it, Dean was about to chastise himself but then he decided this was her house and she wasn't exactly human, so she must have her ways of getting in, lock or no lock. 

Ellema's announcement didn't make him happy. He'd been so sure he and Sam would have at least the rest of the day to wallow in each other. When Ellema used her most convincing voice to get him to let her deal with their father, he hesitated, but finally nodded. In his present state, he wouldn't get a word in edgewise. Dean waited till she'd gone again, and then shook his brother, who was either dozing or passed out as far as he could tell. "Sam," he said softly. "Sam, we should get cleaned up and dressed, just in case. Dad's here." 

* * *

Sam vaguely noticed a woman speaking, but he wasn't sure if that was a dream or reality. When Dean nudged him, he growled, unwilling to open his eyes and hear what his brother had to say. Everything he'd experienced in his life so far told him he wouldn't like the news, but Dean persisted.

So their dad had found them. Sam wasn't surprised. Maybe he'd hoped that it would take longer, but John was an expert tracker, so that was that. 

"Yeah, I guess we'd better," he agreed reluctantly to Dean's urging that they shower and dress. There was a bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. Although Ellema would probably consider it small, some of their motel rooms would easily fit into it, and its design made Sam gasp when they entered. There was a shower with a tub large enough to bathe in. The walls were all light marble tiles and mirrors, and he almost swooned when he touched the thick, fluffy towels. 

"I wish we'd have time," Sam sighed. "I sure have a few ideas what we could do in here, but..." He swallowed. If John found out about them, he'd string Dean up by his balls, and the least Sam would get was a beating bad enough that he'd never be able to sit again. If Dad didn't take him out and shoot him right away.

Another thought crossed his mind. "Dean, what if... Ellema still needs to erase our minds, right? What if Dad... does something to her before she can do that?"

* * *

Dean gritted his teeth, crawled out of bed and onto his feet. He was willing to bet on Ellema, an ancient goddess or some such being, or even a person with powers, but John wouldn't have lasted this long if he wasn't good at what he did. "I dunno, Sam. We'd better hurry. If we have to live with it, then we do." Dean turned to face his brother. If possible, he loved and desired him more than ever. If he had to cut it off a second time without Ellema's 'help', well, he doubted his strength in the matter. Sam, he knew, hoped she wouldn't or couldn't perform the agreed-upon service. 

Finding that he couldn't look at Sam, his sleepy-sated features and the want that rode him always without giving in and getting back into that bed, Dean crossed the room and opened a window. It smelled like 'them'; his nostrils were full of the scent of semen and sweat and yes, he had to admit, ass. Sleeping he could explain (up all night), sleeping together (only one bed), maybe even nudity (about to shower), but the sex lingering in the air not so much. He felt his brother's eyes like hands all over him. "Shower with a friend?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean hurried into the adjoining bathroom.

* * *

John approached the house with caution. Apparently, the creature that called herself Ellema was well-known in Colorado Springs – which surprised him at first, but he had to admit that being a public figure was a good strategy for a monster if it kept an otherwise low profile.

That was the question he'd been asking himself since he'd found out from Dean about his lay: what was the creature's goal, its purpose? It had nothing to do with the hunt that had led him here in the first place, and none of his contacts had ever heard of her or of anything weird – other than the plague of pixies he was going after – going down in this region.

Well, he'd find out, and the best way to start his investigation was the creature's lair. John was impressed by the house and property. Both looked well tended. Maybe that was the thing's agenda, some scheme to live rich, but even if it didn't involve any killings, as long as that was even a distant possibility, he had to take care of it. The supernatural could not be trusted.

He got out of the car and circled the house until he spotted an open window. Nodding grimly to himself, John crept closer. There was an unmade bed, and he narrowed his eyes when he recognized clothes that looked exactly like some of Dean's and Sam's. A fraction of a second later, the stench of semen hit his nostrils. If he'd had the slightest doubt whether the bitch needed to be killed, he now vowed that he'd not only kill her but make sure she spent her final minutes in the worst agony he could make her feel.

John hated himself for forcing Dean to sell his body, but this monster had corrupted not only Dean, but Sammy, too! He wanted to climb into the house through the window, but his stomach turned over. When he'd finished vomiting up his guts, he suddenly found himself facing Ellema – or not.

"Sir, can I help you?" the woman dressed in a maid's uniform asked him in a strong Spanish accent.

* * *

Sam followed Dean to the bathroom. His throat was dry as he watched his brother walk. Once again, he wondered why he found Dean's bowlegs such an utter turn-on, and he hardened instantly.

"Shower with a friend?" he repeated, feeling a little dumb. Was Dean suggesting what Sam hoped? "Um, what exactly do you have in mind?"

* * *

"Nothing, other than to halve our time. We hardly have time to wash, much less..." Dean glanced in Sam's direction and had to stop talking when saliva flooded his mouth. He'd been expecting naked. Less than two feet away, Sam was fully erect, looking halfway between embarrassed and predatory. Swallowing his drool, Dean ducked into the shower. His dick twitched a few times but there was no way. 

"Get in here!" He grabbed Sam's upper arm, intrigued by how the developing muscles flexed under his hand, pulled him into the stall, and pushed him against the back wall. "You can't face... anyone, with that." As if Sam wasn't more than aware of his own hard-on, Dean dipped his eyes. Sliding to his knees, Dean swirled his tongue around the shiny head and lapped up the sweetness. 

* * *

_"Nuh!!!"_ Sam had hardly entered the bathroom before Dean pulled him into the shower stall, knelt before him, and swallowed him down to the root. He threw his head back and moaned. "Oh god, yes, Dean!"

* * *

SHE stepped back into the house and smiled to HERself when SHE heard Sam's deep moans. It was clear that HER guests would appreciate more time alone. SHE blanked out the sounds and went to the kitchen to make HERself another cup of coffee.

* * *

John turned the radio up as he drove back to Colorado Springs. The source he'd just interrogated had given him a promising hint on the whereabouts of the pixies. If the location panned out, another few days should be enough to set a trap and get rid of the little pests.

Beating the rhythm on the steering wheel, he told himself that sending Sam and Dean on a wilderness trip as survival training had been a good choice: if Dean had interviewed the woman, he'd have tried to chat her up. That, in turn, for whatever reason, would have pissed Sam off, and the last thing he needed was more of the sulking and bitching they'd suffered through the past few weeks. 

No, sending Sam away with Dean into the middle of nowhere would hopefully force the two of them to sort themselves out. As soon as he'd taken care of the pixies plague, he'd reunite with his boys, and they could resume their usual life.

* * *

On his knees, Dean slid his thumbs into the hollows under Sam's hipbones, massaging the soft skin. He tightened his lips into the fissure below the exposed glans. His brother tossed his head, leaning back, just feeling it. Exactly as Dean wanted it. Anything Sam wanted, everything, even if they had only minutes, seconds. Water from the shower ran down his back, ass and legs, but he kept his head out of it the better to pull in air through his nose and keep an ear tuned for any outside noise.

Slowly, Dean took more of Sam's upright shaft into his mouth, then his throat. Everything centered on getting Sam off. He drew the fingertips of his left hand down the sharp angle of Sam's narrow hip to the crease where groin met thigh, then lower to cup his balls in his palm and roll them slowly. As he'd grown and matured, Sam had become more and more 'gifted' in that area. Like Dean, the younger brother produced a lot of fluid before release as well as when he came, especially like today when he'd gone without for a while. The glands inside the looser skin of his sac felt heavy, dense, and Dean squeezed with infinite care. His lips slid their slick way up over Sam's retracted foreskin, further and further toward the base. It was an effort to swallow the entire length but he did it and hummed around the tip, encouraged by Sam's moans and little thrusts. Up and down, Dean sucked for all he was worth and lapped up the leaking slick every time he reached the tip.

* * *

"Nuuh! Mmmh! Nnnnh!" Sam was always loud when Dean was pleasuring him, and after the long hiatus, he couldn't stifle his groans and grunts. For a fleeting second, the thought of John came to his mind, but even that couldn't quench his passion. Besides, if John found them, at least Sam would have this memory of Dean, regardless of what would happen.

Then, Dean licked over his frenulum. Myriads of nerve endings began firing simultaneously, and Sam's knees buckled for a moment but Dean pushed him firmly back against the shower wall. Without the wall, he wouldn't have stayed upright for long, not with the way Dean's fingers played with his balls and his tongue teased his foreskin, then sucked and hummed around his base.

His vision narrowed to the man in front of him, his brother-lover, who was about to make him lose his mind. "Dean," Sam whispered urgently. "Gonna... gonna... Nuuuuhhh!!!!"

* * *

Watching his lover react to every little flick of his tongue and hear his moans of pleasure which echoed around them only motivated Dean further to use every trick he knew. Not that Sam needed much help – his feet slid on the tile and his knees wobbled as he totally lost himself, already close and desperate. Dean kept his eyes turned up and locked on Sam's, bobbing his head. Though he didn't want to pull away and break the rhythm, he had to pause to gulp in more air, but then he went back to blowing Sam with as much suction as he could muster. 

From his perspective, Dean filled his eyes and his brain with the view of his brother's gorgeous young body, from the wiry dark curls surrounding the base of his dick to the flat planes of his torso, the tight little nipples Dean needed to spend so much more time teasing, the point of his Adam's apple, the underside of his jaw. Sam had changed so much from the chubby baby and the runty little kid he'd been till he hit puberty, but sometimes Dean still saw the earlier versions as an underlay, or they all rolled together. Those memories weren't sexual. They were purely of Sam, his brother. And yet, his brother was the person he loved, was in love with, his mate. 

The present was not the time for debate. He'd inferred Sam needed to get off as fast as possible and Dean knew one sure way to accomplish that. Since they hadn't washed yet, Sam would still be lubed where he needed it. Dean whipped his tongue around a bunch of times along Sam's coronal ridge. He braced his left forearm across the tensed subtle ridges of Sam's abdomen and with the other hand, traced the seam of his perineum back from his tensed balls to the border of his rim. 

Yes, slick heat greeted him; Dean slid one finger in easily, then two, mimicking the pace of his work upon the hard, throbbing flesh filling his mouth and throat. When it hit, he felt every single contraction of Sam's release, just has he heard the pained noises of his brother in abject pleasure not just of his body, and tasted how sugary pre-cum changed to the bitter-salt flood of newly-made spunk. Unable to speak, Dean begged none-the-less with every facial expression and the press of his fingertips across the slight bump of Sam's prostate for his brother to give him everything he had.

* * *

Although Sam had been riding the edge for what felt like forever, he wasn't prepared for Dean slipping first one, then two fingers inside his back entrance. His eyes widened when his brother's thick digits were all but sucked into his body. Dean felt around while Sam gasped and panted, and then screamed when the probing fingers found their goal. The light rhythmic pressure in sync with the strong suction on his dick almost made him blank out; all he could do was scream and writhe while his hips bucked madly and he shot fountain after fountain of his thick essence deep down his brother's throat.

"Dean..." Sam could only whisper breathlessly when the electric shocks coursing through his body eased down to an eventual twitch. "I... I'mma sit down now..." he announced in a shaky voice as he began to slide down the shower wall, completely drained after the hard release.

* * *

As if he'd have ever done less without intent, Dean consumed ever last spurt and trickle but let go when Sam slumped, oversensitive and twitchy, he pulled his mouth and fingers free with a last kiss to his slit. As Sam slid down the wall, Dean kept his hands on him till his butt was safely on the floor. Then he stood up only long enough to adjust the showerhead and grab the bottle of shower gel, which Ellema stocked instead of bar soap. 

"Let me wash you," he husked out. Squirting some of the minty-smelling gel into his palm, Dean knelt next to Sam's extended legs and rubbed his handful of soap onto the still-heaving chest. 

* * *

Sam closed his eyes when he felt his brother's strong hands steadying him until he was sitting on the shower floor – or maybe 'slumping' was the better word. 

"Thanks, man," he smiled. Raising a hand to touch Dean's chest was a major task, but Sam's smile widened when he felt the firm muscle. "Wanna wash you, too, in a minute," he sighed happily. "And I wanna make love to you with my tongue..." 

He cut himself off before he could bring up the day in the Impala when he'd licked Dean to his climax; the memory of what had happened shortly after was too painful. And also...

Reality returned. "Dean, we need to check on Ellema."

* * *

"I s'pose you're right," Dean murmured. They'd heard no raised voices or noises he'd associate with hunting, such as gunshots or the thump of furniture or bodies. Ellema was covering for them – they owed it to her to be ready when she either needed their help or came to give them news. "Wash only, I promise." Dean was half-hard, had been since seeing Sam's body ready for him again, although he probably couldn't achieve a full-on erection for a while anyway. Still, he couldn't resist running his thumbs over Sam's pebbled little nipples before washing down to his groin, cleaning off cum and spit. Touching Sam's junk when it was soft and lax turned Dean on almost as much as when he was raging-hard, but Dean controlled his urge to start things again. He lowered his eyes to the floor, found the bottle, and poured out a little more gel. Lips pursed, Dean washed and rinsed Sam's underarms by directing the water stream. 

"You wanna take care of your butt, or should I?" he asked bluntly. "I, uh, I hope you're not too sore. Sam, I, god it was so good..." Another second and Dean would have been in Sam's lap, the exact opposite of conducive to his brother either kneeling or standing, so he backed off and stood while Sam got himself together. "My turn." Dean stuck his face under the spray, pushed his hair back, and efficiently soaped his front.

* * *

Sam held his breath when Dean washed his nipples and male parts. His dick didn't even twitch, but the loving care of his brother's hands on him brought tears to his eyes. Whatever powers Ellema had, how could she make him forget _that?_

"Yes, it was," he swallowed, watching Dean when he stood and washed. The beauty of his brother stood out against the marble walls like one of the classic statues he'd never seen but heard of. If Sam were to be an artist, he'd spend the rest of his life loving and admiring Dean as his muse and model.

He sighed. Their reprieve would soon be over – maybe it already was over – but he'd ask Ellema if she could at least let him keep the memory of Dean in the shower.

* * *

True to his word, Dean washed quickly, the awareness of Sam's eyes never leaving his body giving his hands a tremor or two. Self-consciousness never occurred to him, not in front of Sam. Maybe he even preened just a little, took a few extra precious seconds washing his junk turned so his brother could see it pink and almost-soft. Even now, his own touch sent heated bolts through his belly... Dean needed to stop, and he was done, anyway. 

"All done. Your turn." Dean stepped out from under the spray and held out his hand. He'd make sure Sam levered himself successfully to his feet, then leave. Since there'd been no reply to his earlier question, Dean took that to mean San would rather be alone while tending to his backside, and he respected that. It had been his first time, and he might be a little shell-shocked. Yeah, they'd forget, that was the plan, but not till they were decent and back in Ellema's presence. 

* * *

Sam stood with Dean's help, blushing when his face was at the same level as his brother's. Earlier, he'd been too out of it to think straight, but Dean's question began to make sense now: his front side was clean, but his back and – especially – his butt still needed to be taken care of.

He wasn't sure what he should answer. Now that the ecstasy had subsided, he felt drained – nicely, comfortably drained, but still drained – and his ass was throbbing with soreness. Having it touched was the last thing he wanted, but the thought of cleaning up there himself wasn't any better. 

"Um, maybe... could you just... rinse... no soap, just warm water..." Sam bit his lip. Why was this so embarrassing? It was Dean, after all! 

"Please, help me here, Dean."

* * *

His brother had guts, to ask for help. His blush said it hadn't been easy for him. Dean never asked, although his options after being on the receiving end left him with no options at all, in his book. Blinking a couple of times to assume himself he'd heard right, Dean met Sam's pleading eyes and nodded. "Of course... Whatever you need." 

Cooler, even tepid water would soothe better. Dean turned the temperature down to warm-ish, then gently backed Sam around under the spray. Though not as huge as the lavish bathroom connected to Ellema's bedroom upstairs, Dean was thankful for the large, flat-floored shower stall that allowed them to maneuver around each other without mortal threat to their safety. 

"Here, lean on me." Dean took his brother into a hug, bracing him from the front. "Now move your feet apart; hold on to me if you need to." Slowly he slid his hands down Sam's back, to the arch where his waist was so small Dean could nearly span it with his hands, then up over the rise of his cheeks. Lower yet, Dean cupped the round muscles in his palms and pulled them apart with infinite care, exposing Sam's crack to the running water. Sam flinched and hissed, and Dean murmured, "Sorry, Sam... It should be better soon." 

He knew that with virgins it hurt. Hell, everyone knew that; it was part of their allure, apparently, although not for him. And gay male sex, as far as he'd ever heard, always involved some degree of pain and general nastiness for the bottom guy. Hell, if not for his and Sam's experimentations, Dean would probably still think lube had been invented for the sole purpose of grossing him out, no matter how much he had to acknowledge that mechanically speaking, using it beat not using it every time. That was why he carried it. The possibility that he'd damaged Sam tore at him. He'd been careful, but maybe when his control had slipped he'd been too rough. 

They stood, equal height and wrapped around and in each other. It seemed like time stopped... Till Dean's fingers crept inwards while holding Sam's cheeks apart – he didn't even notice till his pinkie brushed the puffy border of Sam's rim. He froze. "Oops, didn't mean to do that, I swear." 

* * *

It hurt like hell at first, but then the cool water felt soothing. Leaning against Dean, Sam relaxed after the initial pain had faded. When Dean apologized, Sam shook his head and smiled. "Not blaming you. It was worth it and I wanna do it again, just not right now."

Then Dean's finger touched his sore entrance and Sam flinched. "Sorry, man. I really like your hands on me," he hurried to reassure his brother who immediately looked worried again, "but maybe I'll like them even better in a minute if they have lotion on them." He winked.

Turning serious again, Sam lowered his head on Dean's shoulder and kissed it. "Dean, that was... You know that they say, 'See Naples and die.' I don't care much about Naples, but if I were to die, I'd want my last memory to be you making love to me."

* * *

"It was on my bucket list, too, Sammy," Dean told him. Surely his brother had to know it, regardless of their fractured relationship. He wished with all his heart they could keep this as part of them. But yes, he'd better tend to Sam. Ellema could probably do something about the soreness. That didn't mean Dean didn't want to do his part. 

With some sense of finality, Dean reached over to turn off the water. "Let's get out. Her hot water heater would probably keep on for hours, but we've already dilly-dallied a while." His nerves spiked up again. If John was on the other side of the door, they'd probably get their wish to die happy. Their clothes were out there. Dean grabbed them each a towel and stepped out onto the rug in front of the shower.

* * *

"I'll always love you," Sam said as he followed his brother out of the stall. "And I won't let her make me forget that, but maybe she can, I dunno, do something to dampen the desire." He sighed. "Not that I really want that, but..."

Sam swallowed. "We're going back to living with Dad, right?"

* * *

Scrubbing his hair with the towel, just as luxurious as the others upstairs, Dean replied, after a beat, "I don't see any way around it, do you? He wouldn't even let you stay with Bobby. If we try to run, he'll come after us. If not in a day or a week, he'd catch up. I mean, look at today – what did it take him, like eight hours, tops?" He shook his head, wrapped the towel around his waist, and returned to the bedroom for his clothes. 

'Their' bed was all rumpled and stained, covers tossed aside. Opening the window had cut the smell of sex in the air, but the bed reeked of them. Dean sat down on the side of it and reached for his jeans. The incredibly soft sheets under his ass contrasted sharply with the harshness of their lives. Staring down at his worn clothes, Dean felt the urge to hit something well up in his chest, but he tamped it down and began untangling his much-washed light blue cotton boxers from the legs of his jeans. 

* * *

Sam watched Dean toweling himself dry and fishing for his underwear. He still had his towel slung around his hips when he stood next to his brother. "I know," he said miserably. "I just wish..." He sighed again. "Guess I'd better get ready, too." 

He picked up his clothes, then sat down to extricate his briefs from the jeans – and winced. "Um, about that healing thing of hers... Do you think Ellema is okay? It's been awfully quiet..." He let the sentence trail off, then laughed nervously. "To be honest, I dunno if I should be more worried about her or about Dad."

* * *

"Dunno." Dean hurried to tug his clothes on – underwear, jeans, socks and shoes while he was still sitting. "Sam..." His brother was still in his towel, fiddling with his clothes, posture tense. He'd shifted all his weight to one butt cheek; Dean was familiar with the attempt to keep pressure off a sore hole. 

When he stood, still shirtless, Sam looked up, eyes worried. Though it was speculative, he tried to alleviate the fear. "She can take care of herself. Dad's probably in the front yard doing the Chicken Dance right now. But um, healing, for now did you want the lotion? I saw some in the bathroom." Without waiting for a reply, Dean went to fetch it. 

* * *

Dad doing the Chicken Dance? Sam shuddered and did his best to push the disturbing thought as far back in his mind as possible. There might be a positive side-effect, though: if he ever needed to get rid of an inappropriate boner, _that_ image would certainly do the trick.

A warm feeling spread in Sam's belly that had nothing to do with sex when Dean hurried to find lotion for his sore butt. He was still thinking about Ellema and her offer to wipe their memories. Sam had tried to come up with a detailed plan of how to implement that plan to the best. He wanted to remember his love for Dean, but maybe not the desperate need that came with it. And although he'd promised to let her take the memories of them going all the way, he wondered if she could make them remember again later, and if so, when. 

Dean would probably tell him to stop overthinking it, but that was something where he and his brother were different. Sam often envied Dean for his straightforward approach to life. His thoughts were interrupted when Dean returned with a bottle in his hand.

"Yeah, I guess I want it," Sam said, not really happy at the prospect, but aware that it was the right thing to do, not only to ease his pain but also Dean's obviously guilty conscience.

* * *

"'I guess'? Well, you don't have to. Your choice." No way was Dean ever going 'make' Sam do anything even vaguely related to something sexual. His wants and needs did not override Sam's. Just like the reverse. He set the little bottle down on the table. "This smells like vanilla anyway. Not every fitting," he tried to joke. Picking up his tee-shirt from the floor, Dean turned it right-side-out and poked his head through the neck opening, then slid his arms in. The cut on his arm was throbbing again, which reminded him of the antibiotic cream from Ellema's first aid kit. They had their own in the car, so he wouldn't have to filch hers. The sun had moved considerably since they'd awoke in each other's arms, and he shifted restlessly on his feet.. 

"C'mon, Sammy," he prodded, pulling on his flannel shirt. "Get dressed or, uh, assume the position. Last chance." 

* * *

"My choice," Sam repeated and looked at Dean's face. "Thank you for giving me that choice," he swallowed. "Really. I don't think I can do this myself, so. Um, is it okay if I'm on the bed on my side?"

He laid down and pulled his knees up. "Vanilla, huh? Maybe I'll develop a taste for the scent," he mused. "Who knows? It would drive you nuts in the Impala, I guess, and you'd never stop winding me up about it, so there's something to be said for it."

Sam knew he was babbling because he was nervous, and he knew that Dean knew it, too. It was unlikely that either of them would remember the vanilla scent when Ellema was done with them. The one good thing he could see in that deal was that in order to make him really forget, she'd have to heal his soreness. About that...

"Dean, do remember when I was little and you pulled off my band-aids and such? You'd always distract me with a crazy story so it wouldn't hurt so much." Sam managed a weak grin. "Can I have a story with the lotion?"

* * *

He'd all but forgotten their old ritual. Now that Sam reminded him, Dean chuckled at the memories. Sam at four had been a handful, demanding and clingy, or so it had seemed to Dean, although if his little brother's behavior had suddenly changed, it would have scared Dean. It seemed like he was forever having to talk Sammy down from a temper tantrum or a sugar buzz or being freaked out over one thing or another. A scraped knee wasn't bloody murder, but try and tell that to Sam's lungs. Kid was high-strung. He was also too smart for his own good, and pushed Dean's buttons all with the relentless effortlessness of a sibling. By age six, thanks to Dean's inexpert training, Sam knew to act brave, especially if their dad or other grown-ups were around, but underneath he was a normal kid in that he still needed some comforting with his boo-boos. Even when Sam was ten, the first time he'd needed stitches, Dean had hovered like a nervous mother while John proceeded with what for him was SOP: curved needle, fugly black thread, splash of JD. 

Pulling himself back into the present, Dean responded, if a little belatedly, "Get comfortable, however that is for you. Probably better to not have you on your hands and knees in front of me, y'know?" He took the little plastic bottle again and pumped a bit of lotion into his palm. Very sweet-smelling. And creamy white. Smearing it on Sam's hole was going to look like... He made himself bring that line of thinking to a screeching halt, and sat back down on the edge of the mattress while Sam rooted around to get himself situated. 

Some vestigial sense memory of the vanilla scent was going to plague him, Dean was sure of that. He'd probably go years, making fun of Sam for smelling like a girl and yet popping wood every time he got a whiff. Shaking his head, Dean admitted, "I know I made up stories for you, but I can barely remember. They were mostly about monsters and good people who killed them. Man, we didn't know shit back then." 

Sam waited for him, probably thinking Dean would beg off. It had been years, after all, since last time. Whatever muse provided fantastic tales to little boys had packed up and gone. It was down to him. "Once upon a time," Dean began, using the classic fairy tale line, "a boy a bit younger than you decided to go camping in the woods behind his house one night. All by himself. He set up his little pup tent close to the edge of the forest, where he could see the light from the windows of his house. He took his sleeping bag, his pillow, a lantern, and a bar of chocolate. After a while, he fell asleep listening to the crickets and cicadas and frogs." 

In Dean's imagination, the woods went quiet, perhaps because Sam was lying beside, or kind of behind him, still as stone, barely breathing. Dean dipped the tip of his index finger into the little pool of goo in his palm. "When the boy woke up in the middle of the night, it was pitch black. No lights and no moon. Not even stars. He knew something was in the tent with him, he could hear it breathing. It smelled like apple pie and vanilla. Then the air started to glow, and in the middle of it appeared this dude, a really hot, naked dude with wings. Kinda looked like me. Had the prettiest dick ever. And he said, 'I've come to make a man of you.' Then the boy's dad showed up with a shotgun and blew him away. The end." Just then, he touched Sam's ass, and hooted with laughter when the poor kid jumped about three feet. "Sorry, Sam," he chortled. "Want a different one?"

* * *

Listening intently, Sam all but forgot about his pain. The story made him smile, and when he imagined Dean with little angel wings, he giggled: smelling of apple pie, yes, that was his brother, and the prettiest dick, Sam could testify to that. The vanilla scent surrounded them when Dean continued speaking.

Less than a second later, Sam twitched hard and swore, but before he could stop Dean's hand, the sudden pain from being touched was already fading again. He shook his head at Dean's laughter and commented dryly, "Yeah, that'd be our dad alright. But I still suggest that an alternative ending is in order here."

He smiled at Dean. "He arrived too late. At least he can't take that away from us now, regardless if we remember it or not. As for whether he'll blast us away, it's time to find out."

Sam got up from the bed and gathered his clothes. The lack of shouts and fight sounds from outside their room suddenly felt heavy. Dean was already waiting at the door when Sam finished dressing, and they left the room in silence, expecting the worst.


	3. Chapter 3

What Sam hadn't expected was Ellema sitting in the kitchen with a gentle smile on her face and a cup of coffee in her hands. 

* * *

"Sam. Dean. Your father was here and has now resumed his original hunt after I gave him a hint where to find what he was looking for. I suggested that he sent you two on a camping trip for a few days, which he thought was a good idea. Now you need to decide how to proceed – but maybe you'd like more coffee first?" SHE raised her eyebrows at them and waited for an answer.

* * *

They'd had several hours of sleep, but Dean decided he could do with a coffee and accepted the offer. By now he got what Ellema was capable of; it still boggled his mind that she could make the stubborn, irascible "I'm always right" John do anything at all. A few days off, though? What would they do with themselves? Dean glanced sideways at Sam, considering. They could stay here, assuming Ellema would allow it. Stay here _in bed._ Or they could make a run for it, drive anywhere at all in an effort to break their father's hold over them. Lose themselves in the sprawling prairies to the east of here, or go up into the mountains, Alaska, East Coast...? Despite what he'd said to Sam not long before, that was Dean's dream for himself and for them – to get free. Eventually. Unlike Sam, he couldn't imagine not hunting; it was already too ingrained in him. But he could do other things as well.

He and Sam stood awkwardly by the table a few moments before Dean shrugged, gestured at his brother, and followed Ellema to the coffee machine. "After this, I suppose we should be going soon," he began. "Though once again I can't thank you enough." He couldn't help but compare what he knew of her now to what he'd thought she was last night. How odd that a demi-goddess or whatever should trouble herself with something as mundane as making coffee for two virtual strangers. Why didn't she have servants or slaves to do everything for her? She'd mentioned a house-cleaner, and Dean assumed someone must take care of the grounds, but he hadn't seen or heard anyone. No, this was a hands-on... person, yes she was a person... who wanted to live as human as possible. He regretted not being able to help her, but now he just couldn't see how that would be possible.

"We've talked about what you can do with our memories. And repayment, that you don't want it for some reason, though I'm – we're – in your debt. I guess it's no secret to you that... what..." Dean blushed despite having spent a wild night with the woman, knowing she'd probably heard everything that had gone on between him and Sam. His lack of inhibitions was limited to what went on behind closed doors or at least privately, other than when he was running his mouth for shock value. "Anyway. How fine-tuned can you get it? I mean, if we don't remember getting here, you could have some very suspicious and defensive moments to deal with. But if I remember making this deal, or whatever, well that's not going to work. He-" Dean nodded at Sam, "doesn't want to forget, and I understand but it can't be like that. You won't have trouble if he's not totally down with this, I guess?" Finally he added, frustrated by his inability to express what they needed, "And a little more healing, for Sam, if you could spare just one more favor."

* * *

Ellema listened to Dean while making coffee for them, and Sam decided to speak up as well. "Um, yeah, what Dean said, thanks a lot, for everything." The words came haltingly, and he wasn't sure how to phrase what he wanted to ask for. "I really don't want to forget Dean and I loving each other, but he insists, and, well, I guess it's for the best if we don't remember. But maybe... Is there a way that we can remember later? When I'm legal and our dad can't hunt us down for being in love?"

Sam bit his lip and waited.

* * *

SHE heard both boys out before replying, turning to Dean first. "Your father doesn't remember Sam's chicken pox. He remembers that you, Dean, went out for a drink, and he sent the two of you on a camping trip the next morning." SHE smiled a little ironically. "When I suggested that to him, he was thinking along the lines of a survival experience. Anyway, the easiest would be for you to forget about everything that came after the chicken pox. Dean, if you want, I can leave you with the memory of meeting me as a barfly, and then you returned home and went camping with Sam the next morning. Sam wouldn't remember anything out of the ordinary either."

Looking at both, SHE continued. "Practically, it could be such that you drive to some place where you want to stay for a few days, and set up camp. Then you'd go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll think your dad sent you there and the past day never happened."

SHE waited for a moment and added, "You can discuss and think about it, maybe suggest an alternative. We can do it now or in a few days, that's up to you."

Then SHE turned to the younger brother. "Sam, if you want me to return the memories eventually, Dean has to agree to that, too, and you need to define some sort of trigger, circumstances that are opportune for recall so it wouldn't hit you in the middle of a hunt."

Sam looked at Dean and Dean looked undecided, so SHE suggested, "I'll leave you to it. You can find me on the terrace, Dean knows where."

* * *

This was turning out a lot more complicated than Dean had bargained for. Everything starting from him leaving the house the previous night was good, except Sam had already been itchy, spotty, and chained to the bedposts by then. But Ellema had said Dad wouldn't remember chicken pox. They could explain it as some freak allergic reaction if he happened to later, okay. 

But then, why were they here, in this house? Took a drive and got lost? Ellema seemed to be tired of him and he didn't blame her. Dean supposed Sam wouldn't want to sit but he hoisted himself up on the countertop. "What do you think Sam? It should be safe to wait a day if not longer. No offense man but given how things were, I'm not sure spending three days alone in the woods is my idea of a good time." He threw Sam an apologetic look. "You think she's ready to toss us? I can't tell."

* * *

Dean looked uncomfortable and mused that Ellema wanted them gone, but Sam wasn't so sure. "She said she's something like an empath, right? And you suggested that we should be going soon, so maybe she's trying to go with that. I don't think she wants us gone. If I were her, I mean, that must be a lonely life."

Sam laughed. "She certainly didn't mind your company, bro!" 

It was weird, but the bitterness and grudge he'd borne against Dean was all gone. The way Ellema had promised that she wouldn't use her powers on them, Sam wondered why he suddenly felt so different. Sure, Dean making love to him, _claiming_ him, had over the time become a symbol for his brother's love, but had he really thought that Dean's refusal meant he didn't love Sam? Sam had to admit that, yes, maybe he'd come to the point where he believed that Dean didn't want him, but it didn't matter any longer. There was no doubt in his heart now – and in his ass either – that Dean loved him, more than anything in the world.

"You know," Sam said wistfully, "although we won't remember, I'd like to stay as long as we can. With you."

* * *

"As long as she'll put up with us, I agree. We've got at least a day then, or two. After that, I suppose we'll have to go camping so we can convince Dad..." Dean shrugged, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. He took another gulp of his coffee. Ellema really did have the good stuff. _All_ the good stuff. He grinned. 

"She said it had been a long time, but last night, I never imagined how long that could be." Not sure if he should tease Sam like this, he continued because, from what Sam had just said, and how he said, it seemed like for once he wasn't jealous of Dean being with her. Ellema had helped him, too, directly and indirectly, and had been more respectful than they deserved of their relationship. There was also another thing they'd never talked about, and maybe it was time to clear the air. "I'd have to say that yes, she liked my company." Dean made air quotes around the last word and twisted his smile a little, letting his dude-bro out. "Kinda like how Nicole enjoyed your company, huh, Sammy?" 

* * *

Sam blushed: he still felt guilty for leaving Nicole in the morning without a proper good-bye, but he knew it was his only chance to run away. See how well that had gone! Now that Dean had explained how much he, too, wanted to flee, and why it wasn't possible, Sam felt even guiltier.

"Nicole," he said softly. "I was so mad at you, you know, for pushing me at her. She's great, and I see why you like her so much, and I wish we could go back to her and explain. Maybe one day. We should at least send her a card or some chocolate." Sam smiled at the memory of his and Nicole's shared disappointment that her roommate had put a large sticker with 'Hands off!' written on it on the tempting tub of ice cream in the freezer.

Sam took a deep breath. This was his one chance to talk with Dean, who, for once, didn't fight it.

"I was jealous of you and all these girls," he admitted. "Yeah, I know, that's not exactly news for you, but... What I never told you was that I wanted to watch you. How you were with a woman. See you get off and all that..."

Maybe it was just as well that they'd never recall this conversation.

* * *

Nodding, Dean agreed. He owed Nicole big-time. Of all the women he'd met, she'd been the only one he'd considered good enough. Not just hot, but smart, discerning, ambitious, and adventurous in bed. "Yeah, she was, is, an awesome chick. That night, I knew you were pissed at me... But she was already working on you, I mean, you were hard in your jeans and you looked so damned hot in those clothes. Nicole has standards and character, so I dunno if she saw something in me that I never did, but she went for you then just like... Well, you know. Some day we'll be back there, on a hunt or to visit Bobby. She probably won't look at me now, much less touch me. But yeah, we should find a way to thank her." 

About then the full meaning of what Sam had said after admitting to his jealousy hit Dean. His eyes widened. He shouldn't have been surprised, though. They were cut from the same cloth. "You wanted to watch me having sex? Finding a willing female might be be the trickier part. Remember that I offered to stay with you while you were with Nicole? That would have involved watching you...? I was just as, um, curious. And jealous. No one else had ever touched you, Sam, no one. Only me. You're mine." 

Right then, Dean's feral instincts flared up, so possessive he saw red and grew metaphorical fangs at the thought of anyone but him looking at Sam, much less kissing him or everything that normally came after. That was so ridiculous; it couldn't be that way. Once Ellema worked her memory thing, if they each found other people to hook up with it would be easier, Dean was sure. He couldn't just go no-sex cold turkey – he knew that about himself, and it wasn't fair to relegate Sam to years if not forever of nothing but his own hand. If they found people to share... women, or men...? Dean couldn't say with any honesty that he could keep his hands off his brother. 

And then, he came up maybe the best or worst idea ever. Or maybe Sam had, and Dean had finally caught on. "Mine, but can't be all mine. You dirty dog," Dean drawled in a sly voice. "Oh, we've got someone now. Out there." He jerked his chin in the direction Ellema had exited the kitchen. "Y'know, she wasn't done with me last night when Dad called. Is that what you're trying to ask for? Maybe you want to tear off a piece-a that, too...?" 

Even if Sam didn't, the idea of him being there watching Dean fuck, studying his moves, his sounds, that was really fucking sexy. Hopping off the counter, Dean stalked across the room. "Say the word. Whatever you want." 

* * *

Sam's mouth turned dry. Once again, he thought that he must be dreaming, but his sore butt felt very real. If not for the prospect of having his memory wiped, he'd never have admitted that the thought of watching Dean having sex turned him on. To his surprise, Dean, his brother who'd never, _never,_ engage in anything that could even remotely related fall under 'chick flick moments' was actually talking to him! And was taking his suggestion seriously!

Dean reminded Sam how he'd – suggested? offered? – to stay and watch Sam with Nicole. Back then, Sam had been ready to commit fratricide for various reasons, but it had never occurred to him that the – suggestion or offer – could have been a plea from Dean's side: if Dean couldn't have sex with Sam, watching him getting laid could count as a substitute.

Sam could see it clearly now. And he could see with equal clarity that Dean's dick was swelling in his jeans when Dean suggested he – they? – have sex with Ellema, insinuating that she'd go for it.

Unable to do anything but stare at his brother, Sam nodded slowly, then stammered, "If you think that... you'd... I mean... with her..."

* * *

Poor Sam, the kid's normally tilted, narrow eyes were huge, and he was stammering out half-sentences and tripping over them. "All we can do is ask. I'll have sex with her again, if watching me gets you hard." 

A glance down told Dean that not only would it, it already did. Snapping his eyes back up to Sam's face, he went on, feeling delightfully uninhibited. "She's got quite a hunger for dick. Pretty sure she'd have you, too. She's got some sort of immunity to human diseases – you could take her raw." He flipped his eyebrows once. There was too much air between them. Sliding his hands low on Sam's hips, Dean ground against his brother, erection against erection. "I'd love watching you fuck, Sammy. See it on your face how bad you need to move, that little ass thrust, that long spine twist and arch, your toes curl in the sheets... Might have to lick you out when you get close, to make you cum screaming." 

Damn, Dean was working himself up, just talking about it. He lowered his dirty mouth to the side of Sam's neck and sucked a mark there, not even caring – Ellema could fix it. "She wants us to decide about the memory thing." He was panting, trying to keep a level head while the little one was leaking and demanding attention. "Let's say day after tomorrow, late afternoon. Outside, she does her thing and we'll just... Go camping. Till then though..." They both knew what.

* * *

It wasn't only Dean's dick that was swelling now. The thought of Dean licking him while he was making love to Ellema – sliding in Dean's juices, although his brother hadn't openly suggested that – made Sam rock hard in less than a second. 

"Oh god," he gasped. "Do you really think she'd... do that with us?"

* * *

"One way to find out." Dean pulled back a little, enough to look into Sam's face and gauge his true level of interest. Obviously, he was hard, but the that could be from Dean grinding on him or fantasy or both. The real thing, did he really want that? Since Sam had been with Nicole – successfully and then some judging by the state of her that morning – he was not so opposed to females as he'd once spat at Dean, pissed as hell at the time. And they'd be doing this together, for each other. 

If she wanted to, Dean was sure Ellema could hear them, and the patio wasn't far. "You need a minute?" Finally making himself step away, Dean eyed the bulge at Sam's crotch. Sam wore layers of clothes like Dean, like they'd been trained, but right now he was in only his jeans and tee-shirt which wouldn't cover that up, no way. Dean had to turn away too, and pointedly think about shifter skin and black dog drool to make his boner go down. 

When he was decent, not like Ellema hadn't already seen everything of him anyway, he motioned at Sam to follow him, "Let's go – just through here," and presented himself before the woman waiting outside. Knowing what she truly was should make a difference, but to Dean, she still looked like a highly attractive twenty-something. Maybe it was in the eyes, or her bearing, that struck him as different from time to time. Ellema was sitting at an outdoor table made of stone, slate perhaps, and metal, her long black hair moving slightly in the breeze. The sun was warm on his shoulders. 

He spoke for both of them, although Sam would speak up if he felt Dean wasn't hitting all points. That was a given. "Alright, Sam and I talked it over. Can I, er, can we sit?" He gestured at the bench opposite her. Had a few seconds ever dragged on so long? 

* * *

SHE was sitting on the terrace enjoying the sun when the brothers appeared. Dean sounded a little nervous when he announced that they'd talked it over, but this wasn't a situation they faced every day, after all.

Smiling, SHE turned to them and gestured that they were welcome to join HER. "I like the clear air out here," SHE said, "but that's not why you're here." HER eyes twinkled as SHE eyed them. Sam was shifting from one foot to the other, trying to hide himself – and his obvious arousal – behind his brother and not at all happy to sit and lose his cover. SHE could tell that Dean wasn't hard, toward the end of his teenage years he was at least spared that indignity, but he didn't look at ease either.

"Sam," SHE addressed the younger boy, "regardless of what the world or society try to tell you, it is not wrong to love your brother." HER smile deepened. "Nor is it wrong to desire him. Trust me, although I don't share your love for Dean in its depth, his body doesn't leave me unaffected either," SHE winked.

* * *

"Um," Sam stammered after he'd sat next to Dean on the bench. How could the woman... whatever she was... be so relaxed? He didn't know whether he wanted to resent or envy her more for that, but at least she admitted to relating to wanting Dean's body. Ironically, he didn't have to hide his erection any longer: apparently, all the blood his body could muster was now needed to turn his face into a tomato.

"Dean," he hissed and kicked his brother's feet. "A little help here, please!"

* * *

Sam's face had turned the color of ketchup, he was that embarrassed. Maybe, Dean supposed, he should have lingered in the kitchen a while longer, but on the other hand, the two of them being alone around each other wasn't going to make Sam any less hard. He grinned at his brother's discomfiture. Yeah, so he was an ass. Part of his charm. 

"Uh..." Dean chuckled when Sam kicked him and hissed for him to 'help'. "Sure, right. So..." he addressed Ellema. "First, about the memory dump. Since we're supposed to be out communing with nature for the next three days, we figure that we have today, tomorrow, most of the day after to do whatever we want. So I was thinking... When it's time, we'll all just go outside, you'll do whatever you do to make us forget, and then Sam and I will probably just think we're lost and we'll head up into the mountains. Oh, and we might need a little minor healing. You can do that, right?" Dean brushed his fingers against the side of Sam's neck, where his suction had left a purplish bruise. 

Ellema read him just fine, including the unspoken requests Dean was sure, and returned his look steadily. To prevent his brother from dying of embarrassment, he didn't bring up Sam's sore hole, but she had to know. Even as he thought about it, Sam shifted gingerly beside him. Dean rushed on, knowing he was asking a lot. "Can we stick around for that long? Stay here? We won't even leave the room except to eat, if you want; you wouldn't even know we're in the house." 

Before he lost his nerve, Dean cleared his throat in preparation of the 'other' request. Ellema hadn't turned him down for anything yet, but he might be pushing his luck. A glance to the side showed only that Sam was staring at his toes, his half-hidden face possibly even redder. The next words came out almost formally. "Or... we discussed this as well – _we_ would like to be with you. We, as in both of us, together with you. Not..." He thought back to earlier conversations, "not as payment. Not like, a notch in our belts. Just... just want, curiosity, desire. Me, you've had, so you've an idea of, well, me. I know Sam's younger, but he's been with a girl. And a man." For some reason, Dean needed Ellema to be clear that man was him, and only him, and he touched his chest as he said the last part. 

"And now, we'd like to share you. Would you be open to that?" Dean tried and failed to stop the visions of Ellema's unleashed sexuality, and of Sam on her, matching her frenzy. He blinked, mouth gone dry and dick spitting wetness. Ah, hell. Even if she said no, he was so going to drag Sam off somewhere and get busy with him again. 

* * *

SHE smiled at Dean, then Sam, before replying. "I would like that, too," SHE said slowly. "All of it. You're welcome to stay, as I said before. As my guests, you don't have to hide unless you want to be on your own, of course. Now that your father is looking after his own affairs, I can offer you a more comfortable room, too. Consider my house and anything in it yours for the time of your stay. Including me," SHE bowed HER head, "I feel honored by your offer, Dean."

SHE turned to Sam. "And yours, assuming that you two have an understanding here."

Sam's face appeared to turn even redder, although SHE was sure that was not possible, and he nodded. He didn't seem to be capable of coherent speech, so SHE continued before he felt obliged to open his mouth, "As for healing your sores, if you're okay with that, please let me touch your hand."

For a second, Sam stared at HER with wide eyes, and SHE could almost watch how HER words were decoded by his brain. Then he held out his hand to HER. It was shaking, but when SHE ran HER fingers over it, SHE took delight in feeling him relax until he even met HER smile. The bruise on his neck had vanished and although neither of them would ever mention it, so was his other soreness.

What came next struck HER with complete surprise, but Sam was Dean's little brother after all: Sam took HER hand and kissed it. It was a gentle, innocent, kiss, and it made HER heart leap. 

"Thank you," Sam said and SHE bowed HER head again.

"And I thank you," SHE said, "for accepting my hospitality. Shall we get you settled, then? Bring your stuff in from the car to your new room? And, don't get me wrong, but do I guess right that you may be interested in my washing machine, too?"

* * *

Dean had to laugh at that. "God, yeah! Laundry duty sucks but dirty clothes is worse. In the dumps we usually stay in, it's the local Laundromat or nothing." Watching his brother interact with Ellema was... interesting. Tongue-tied, he kissed her hand like an old-fashioned gentleman. Sam had better manners than Dean most days, and yeah, he was younger so maybe the wide-eyed innocent act was somewhat warranted, but he could also be downright aggressive in the sack. 

Why interrupt their moment? "I'll go get our stuff," Dean murmured, and slipped off the patio in the direction of the garage. 

* * *

Left alone with Ellema, Sam shifted on his seat. Although the soreness of his butt had miraculously vanished, he felt uncomfortable with her and he secretly cursed Dean as a coward for running off.

Ellema laughed at him and leaned closer until Sam could smell her perfume, a very light, flowery fragrance. "Don't blame him," she whispered. "This is a new situation for him as well as for you. Not that it's what I do every day either."

Sam managed to look at her although it made him blush all over again, and she continued speaking, "The three of us together is an idea you two had, but it doesn't mean we have to make it reality. Don't feel obliged to do anything, and remember that you can stop anything at any time."

"I know," Sam replied, "but it's... still, as you said, not something we do every day." He snorted. "Well, maybe Dean does now and then, but I..." His voice lowered down to a whisper, too. "I've only been with a girl once, and now with Dean, um, all the way, that is."

Dammit, what was taking Dean so long? 

"Um, I think I'll go see if Dean needs my help. If that's okay with you?" Sam held his breath. He really needed to get out.

"Sure," Ellema said and her voice sounded strangely soothing. "I'll be here whenever you're ready. Just call me when you got your stuff and I'll show you your rooms."

* * *

Crap! Of course Ellema kept her doors locked. Dean even vaguely remembered her locking the garage door behind them in the early morning, right after their arrival. He didn't have his lock-pick kit on him, either. Well, he'd have to make do. When Sam had let him out of the handcuffs, Dean had unconsciously pocketed the heavy duty paper clip he'd used. He did have his silver knife and a few coins, and his keys. Right. 

Just as he squatted down by the door, squinting at the keyhole he'd inserted the paper clip into, feeling out the tumblers inside, Sam appeared. The kid seemed in a hurry, his movements conveying that he was both confused and relieved. A little regretfully, Dean supposed he shouldn't have left Sam alone, but he'd thought his brother and Ellema had connected on their own. "Hey, what's wrong?" Dean asked him, looking further up into Sam's shaded eyes. "Ellema scare you off? I'll admit, she's a little intense." 

He could tell that the clip was going to snap if he twisted it any more, and drew it out. If it were anyone else, he'd just kick in the door, but not here. "Any chance you have your kit on you? Otherwise we'll have to go ask to be let in like a couple of chumps." Dean stood and winced when his knee popped. 

* * *

Sam found Dean kneeling at the garage door, attempting to pick the lock with apparently little success. After Dean gave him a worried once-over, he asked for Sam's lock pick, which was – of course – behind the locked garage door in the Impala. "Um, no, it's in the car," he replied, "but I can go get a key." 

Not waiting for Dean's answer, Sam ran back toward the house where Ellema was still sitting on the terrace. She raised her eyebrows when he asked her, panting, for the garage key. With another smile, she dug a key ring from her pocket and handed it to him. He thanked her and returned to his brother.

"Here." Sam unlocked the door and let Dean into the garage first. "What you said, yeah, she's intense, but I don't find her scary. Maybe I should be scared, but intrigued is probably more what I'd call it. And curious." He blushed. "Um, I don't mean about what she's like in bed, but she must have had one hell of a life. Imagine what she could teach us! I mean, she must know more about the world than anyone we've ever met, and as a demi-goddess, maybe she could help us deal with all sorts of supernatural baddies. Even Dad would have to recognize that, don't you think?"

* * *

Not for the first time, Sam's actions reflected how much less prideful he was than Dean. He ran and got the key like it was nothing, where-as Dean had started kicking himself for his own shortsightedness the minute he'd walked off the patio. "Thanks," he mumbled, proceeding into the stillness of the garage to unlock the Impala's doors. Sam chattered away about Ellema while Dean dug around for their duffels, stuffing in stray articles of clothing and gathering up their blankets as well. One never knew when laundry facilities – for free – might next present themselves. 

"She could probably take down baddies easily enough. Imagine how much lore she must have picked up over the years – centuries!" Dean answered in turn, his momentary grumpiness lifting. "I wouldn't doubt that Dad thought of using her in some way, I mean with hunting. We should start our own journal." Dad's journal was like the Bible of hunting. Yes, there were all sorts of other old books, some so old they couldn't be touched without falling to dust; Bobby's house had shelves stuffed with them and other waist-high piles when he'd run out of space. The journal, though was what tied everything together. "She said she'd run into hunters before. Not sure if she'd want to help, with that. Especially since some would want to hunt her. But if you want to hash it out with her, I'm game."

By now, Dean was sure he had every crusty old sock and stiff shirt the floorboards under the seats had to offer, and he locked the car again. Once outside, he waited for Sam to lock that door and then handed him his share. He grinned to see his brother stagger a step before he righted himself. "Looks like we're overdue for laundry day, and then some. And you could probably use some protein to keep up your strength!" 

* * *

"I wonder, if she could teach us something, but that would work only if there's a way to keep those memories intact." Sam sighed. "I wish she could show us how to put the whammy on Dad. Then we wouldn't have to forget about our love at all. But we'd probably need her special powers to do that, and even if we learned how to do it, if Dad ever found out we can make him forget stuff, he'd hunt us down, so it's not an option, really." 

He perked up. "Protein, huh?" Sam grinned and licked his lips meaningfully. "Maybe we should stay with Baby for a minute, what do you think?

* * *

"Don't talk about Dad right now, I think I like where this is going," Dean smirked, more when Sam's eyes darkened and seemed to glue themselves to his lips. "Drop your load, Sammy." 

He flicked his gaze at the dirty laundry in his brother's long arms but the double meaning was obvious. Already, heat gathered in his groin. Dean suppressed a wince over the raw ache of his balls. He grabbed Ellema's keyring out of Sam's hand and fumbled for the correct key, finding it on the third attempt, and ducked back into the garage. "You're the walking jizz factory here. I probably spoke too soon – my balls are empty, which is kinda sexy but no good for protein. Instead, I'd be happy to suck yours right outta yah and feed it to you."

Then Dean did drop his load – of clothes – on the cement floor and pushed Sam up against Baby's shiny fender. Immediately, he went for what he'd sadly neglected earlier in their rush to claim each other. Pushing Sam's tee-shirt up, Dean trailed his hands all up and down his smooth, tanned torso. Sam's skin was so warm, almost as soft as a girl's and Winchester men did _not_ go in for fancy lotion. His breath hitching in his chest, Dean took his time with outlining the sleek muscles of Sam's chest and abs before bending down to lick at one tiny, beaded nipple. 

* * *

Dean immediately went with the plan: only seconds after Sam had made his suggestion, he found himself pushed against the Impala's fender with his brother's hands and mouth on his chest and – nipple!

More than once had Dean insinuated that he'd one day make Sam cum from playing with his nipples. Although Sam doubted that that was Dean's intention right now, the thought alone would have had him instantly raging hard. There was, however, so much more: first the softest, gentlest lick that made the tiny bud peak up and swell. Dean licked and suckled, and the raised nub tightened into a hardness that bordered on painful. Sam hissed sharply when Dean blew over the erect peak. He threw his head back and shuddered with arousal, while the first droplets of pleasure fluid trickled from his slit.

Suddenly, Dean grazed the sensitive little bud with his teeth, and Sam writhed and moaned. "Please, oh yes, oh Dean, so good!" He grabbed Dean's hand and pressed it against his crotch, rubbing his swollen dick frantically against it while Dean continued to torture his nipple with careful pinching and biting.

The delicate pain felt perfect; it fueled his lust and Sam whined. "Nuuuuhh! Pleeeease don't stop! Hurts so good!" 

* * *

Sam wanted more and Dean gave it to him. While Sam squirmed and whined, Dean put his lips, teeth, and tongue to good use on one nipple and then the other, stopping to blow on the diamond-hard little points whenever he bordered on biting too hard. "Mmmph! You taste so good... Always salty-sweet..." 

The horny teenager grabbed Dean's hand and dragged it down to his hard-on, which pulsed behind the denim layers of Sam's fly like it was determined to burst free. "Slow down, Sammy," Dean murmured against the tiny hairs behind Sam's ear, which he reflected gleefully probably didn't help matters any, "or you're gonna cream your shorts." The hint of shame amped up his own lust, and Dean went to work on Sam's jeans, desperate to get at his dick. Funny, how it all boiled down to that. "Gotta touch you...!" He tore at Sam's clothes, seeking the swollen flesh he knew he'd find. 

Finally he got his hand into Sam's crotch; fresh slick coated his palm and he spread it down the shaft in slow strokes. Shoving the jeans and boxer briefs down, Dean licked his way down Sam's belly as he dropped to his knees. "Mmmmmm, yeah..." He inhaled deeply. Here was his brother's scent, his sex, his throbbing desire, all for Dean. Kissing the slit, Dean looked up from under his lashes and took Sam's dick into his throat, as far has he could jam it in. Sam made a noise like he was about to die and jerked his skinny hips. Having expected that, Dean swallowed back his gag reflex, tightened his lips, and sucked for all he was worth. Needing no encouragement, Sam rode his face in erratic thrusts which Dean tried to guide, but really all he could do was open his throat and take it, and he wanted to take it, to pleasure Sam in whatever way he asked till one or both of them passed out from it. 

That wasn't all, though. As tactile as Dean was, he grabbed on to Sam's butt cheek with one hand, the other sneaking up between his tensed thighs to tease his sac, which was already tightening. He needed air, held off as long as he could but had to pull away, gasping with his eyes tearing. "You wanna cum for me... Or maybe you want me to... not let you, hm? Torture you and hold your balls down by the roots till you're screaming...?" Filling his lungs, Dean lapped the edges of that red, flared head, the little thread of frenulum, and just the edge of Sam's pushed-back foreskin. This time, he took the sac into his mouth, both testicles, sucking more gently and swirling his tongue into the rugae. 

* * *

"Nnnnhhh!! Mmmmhhh! Nnnnuuhhh!"

Sam's nipples were throbbing and he pressed against Dean's hand desperately, shuddering when Dean suggested he'd cream his shorts. It was typical for his brother, who had in the past not only make Sam cum in his pants but also forced him to walk around in the sticky mess, at least whenever their Dad wasn't around. Thus the reminder notched his arousal up from already being nearly unable to hold back any longer.

His head flew back and he bit on his fist to suppress a scream when Dean undid his pants and swallowed him deep down his throat. His hips pitched forward and he wanted to apologize because he couldn't stop himself, what with the pleasure flooding his body and overwriting his higher brain functions, but he was too breathless to speak. Judging from Dean's passionate and enthusiastic sucking, though, Sam eventually concluded that his brother didn't mind much.

Then Dean asked him if Sam wanted to cum. About to scream out that yes, YES, of course Sam wanted to cum, Sam's jaw dropped when Dean offered to – what the...? to _not_ let him reach completion... yet... and Sam whined. He needed to let go so badly, but Dean pulled back and instead of the incredible suction resorted to tiny kitten licks on the exposed ridge, the most sensitive spot on Sam's dick. His hole was tingling and clenching – and had he ever been so close before? The edge was in sight, but he was unable to reach it from the teasing that was incredibly hot and yet just on the border of not enough.

Suddenly, Sam wanted to ride the edge forever, like Dean had offered. "Y-yes," he whimpered. "M-my balls down and lick me until I can't hold back any longer!" He shuddered with need and delight.

* * *

Dean hummed his happy, pleased agreement around Sam's nutsack. The stones inside tried to draw upward further, but Dean refused the reaction by pursing his lips and tugging with tiny jerks of his head. Replacing his mouth with his hand a moment later, he rasped, "Oh, yeah? Well then that's what you're gonna get!"

First though, Dean bounced to his feet and manhandled his little brother onto the hood of the car. As much as he was planning to make Sam squirm, the kid's legs might give out. True, he'd had sex in worse places than on a – clean – garage floor but he preferred the Impala for several reasons he was sure they both understood. She'd been christened with their combined seed, sacrosanct.

"Lie back, Sam." Dean gave him a little shove backwards, not enough to hurt but enough to get the job done, and wrestled Sam's clothes from the waist down off. Sam was all legs right now, before the final growth to his full height. The long, clean lines of his thighs spread out around Dean; a guttural moan punched out of him in admiration of the straight, slender but strong legs.

Wishing he had a few extra hands, Dean took his brother by the balls again, literally. He scooped the leaking head of Sam's cock into his mouth, where it belonged, closed his eyes in concentration and sucked down hard. Sweetness hit his tongue, and skin-flavor. Like before, Sam's hips bucked to shove that dick in deep, a reflex he couldn't control. Dean loved being able to do that to him, to get Sam to lose his grip and just feel and react. Slowly at first, he slid his lips, turned under to protect from his teeth, up and down, up and down, bobbing his head. At the same time, he kept his grip around the top of the sac, determined to provide the loving torture he promised. 

Another breath. Dean opened his eyes to the sight of Sam sprawled everywhere, legs spread wide, one bare foot propped against Baby's windshield, his pelvis rolling up to meet Dean pushing down. That got him through the next twenty or so head-bobs, till he had to gasp in more air. His brother was moaning so loud that the garage echoed with it. Sparing a predatory grin, Dean teased Sam's slit with the tip of his tongue. He wished it were thinner, so he could wiggle it in further. Sam still yelled and fresh pre-come flowed out, which Dean licked and licked at, till he decided enough of that and got down to the business of blowing his brother again. 

Possibly out of rebellion, Dean had never been anything but a messy cock-sucker, and this was no exception. In his enthusiasm, he drooled all over Sam's crotch while he huffed and pulled at that steel-hard erection. The little veins raised and pulsed with Sam's heartbeat, he could feel the bump-slide of them inside his mouth. By trial and error, Dean had learned how to move Sam's foreskin to his best advantage, easing it forward to meet the ridge and allowing it to retract on its own, again and again. 

The power rush of it hardened Dean's dick, too, but he had no immediate urgency, unlike Sam, who thrashed and begged in gibberish. "Nuh-uh," he hummed. Dean refused to let go of his balls, not yet. Another breath, and this time Dean slid two fingers into his mouth to coat them with spit. Sam's pink little hole, clearly visible as wide as he'd thrown his legs, healed and tight again, was about to get his attention. Dean swallowed that fine young dick, and traced the seam of Sam's perineum to his rim, and wiggled his index finger inside.

Heat, pressure, the clench-relax-clench of muscles surrounded his digit. Dean pressed in further, drew back, finger-fucked Sam's sweet little ass. There was no hesitation with accepting him – Ellema had healed any soreness, just like he'd known she could, and would. Searching around the the slight bump of Sam's pleasure gland, Dean decided he'd get every drop out of it before allowing Sam's climax... if he could. Touching it always made Sam cum fast and hard. But maybe not today, not so fast. Dean tightened the circle of his fingers around the cords that connected Sam's testes to his body and to the outside world, and stroked his fingertip across his prostate. 

* * *

Dean had his mouth around Sam's balls, and Sam knew he was about to lose his mind. Or maybe he'd already lost it – must have! – when he took Dean's offer-challenge to be denied his release until Dean deemed him ready. He realized that allowing Dean to crush his balls was even hotter and way more painful than he'd expected: when Ellema had healed Sam's sore butt, she had, apparently, restored his drained balls as well. How else could it be explained that they felt as if they hadn't been relieved of their load in months when Dean was still fully sated from earlier, and hardly aroused at all?

Life was unfair, Sam concluded. Less than a second later, his mind blanked out when white hot pleasure zinged through his body. Not a moment too soon, Dean hoisted him up on the Impala's hood and continued the sweet torture. Within no time at all, Sam's limbs were flailing as he thrust into Dean's mouth and urged him on to lick and suck harder and faster. Dean ignored Sam's whining and begging, bobbing his head up and down Sam's painfully swollen shaft, grazing him with a perfect hint of teeth now and then, and making Sam cry out in ecstasy and despair.

For a while, Dean focused on the crown of Sam's dick, wiggling his tongue tip into the tiny slit, which almost made Sam jump off Baby's hood when thousands of nerve endings exploded in exquisite pleasure and a burning sensation – that contradicted each other and overloaded Sam's neurons.

"P-p-please," Sam continued to stammer although the connection between the speech center of his brain and the rest of his body had been interrupted long ago. His mouth kept repeating the words in a vain hope that Dean would let him cum. 

A few seconds later, his hips bucked madly and he screamed at the top of his lungs when Dean pressed a finger into his back entrance. He thought he knew what to expect; this was by far not the first time Dean worked his inner sweet spot, but Sam's balls had never before been held down in a steel grip that prevented them to crawl upward, a move that was essential for him to let go.

By now, the glands were rock hard and throbbing with dull pain, but even now Dean wouldn't budge. Instead, he started massaging his prostate. It felt incredible, more intense than ever before, and Sam cried out at every well-aimed thrust of Dean's knowing fingers; each of them being rewarded with a generous amount of clear fluid spurting from his slit, which Dean lapped up immediately. Every time the inner gland released another squirt, Sam howled with a kind of mini-orgasm, and it didn't take long for him until the milking of the now oversensitive gland began to hurt, but still he couldn't stop gushing fluids – and he still hadn't cum for real!

"Gods, Dean, Dean, please, please! I can't take any more! Please let me cum! Please, Dean, please, please, please, burns so much, gotta let go, please..."

* * *

"Just a little more..." Dean whispered. "I'mma make you cum so hard..." Under his restraining hand, Sam's balls swelled to the size of pullet eggs, nearly as hard as his dick and packed full of seed. Covered in sweat, Sam thrashed and thrusted and tossed his head, the picture of desperate, painful need. There were going to be butt-prints on Baby's paint, and a puddle of saliva which had run from his mouth, down Sam's crack. Dean considered adding to the mess with what was sure to be a geyser when Sam let it go, but he owed it to his brother to give him the best orgasm ever. Just like all of them even hurried or tired were the best ever, because it was them, together. 

Dean licked up the pool of slick on Sam's belly, the sticky coating of it on the rounded glans, and covered the purple crown. He took it down, then more and more, till he was full to the back of his throat. Sam had grown here, too. As in height he was going to get bigger than Dean, who might be a little pissy about that sometime in the future but not now. He hummed again, swallowed and sucked and slowly, minutely, loosened his enclosing fingers. Sam's balls pulled up, brushing the inside of his hand in their ascent, the cords jerking and pulsing to propel their load forth. 

Sam screeched his release. His abs crunched as he half-sat up, either to see or from the force. Fresh semen hit Dean's throat like a shotgun blast. He choked it down, then more, seemingly endless spurts of warm Sammy-cum. Through it all, he massaged the spasming little gland inside, though with less pressure, feeling it contract into a lumpy mass while the guardian muscles contracted rhythmically around his finger. In the middle, while Sam was gushing, he couldn't quite swallow fast enough; despite his best effort, Dean was left with a spunk-smeared lower face. He continued to suck and lick till Sam shuddered and drew his knees up in self-defense, then very gently, spit him out and removed his finger. 

No need to ask if it was good. Tremors still running through him, Sam's eyes rolled back; he seemed barely conscious. "Sammy...?" Dean raised his head, looking down over the fucked out, beloved mess of his little brother. "Y'alright?" 

* * *

Time came to a stand-still with Sam moaning and gasping while his body shuddered and twitched as Dean continued to milk and suck him. Eventually, Sam thought it would never end, he'd spend the rest of his life on the edge, his orgasm just beneath his reach and his body torn between just about not enough stimulation to find completion and too much so that the prodding and stroking made his inner gland and balls burn.

Now and then, Dean let go of Sam's crown to promise that he'd let him cum, but not yet. Tears were streaming from Sam's eyes, and he'd lost control of his voice to the point where he couldn't even beg any longer as all he could utter were the agonized sounds of a wounded animal.

Sam was so absorbed that he didn't even realize it at first when Dean finally loosened his iron grip on his balls. By the time he noticed that the pressure from his swollen glands was gone, he was already screaming at the top of his lungs with the sudden release. Although he'd been leaking and squirting fluid like a geyser even before that, it felt as if his inner tubings were stretched to their limits to accommodate the flood.

Dean continued to work him until it felt as if there was a cattle prod buried deep in Sam's ass and another one wrapped around his dick. Sam's knees pulled up involuntarily to stop the continuing shocks that ran through his body, forcing more and more jizz out of him – jizz that simply couldn't be there any more, so why did he continue shooting?

With a final screech from a hoarse throat, Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. At the fringe of his consciousness, he heard his brother's voice calling his name and asking if he was alright. Sam's attempt to speak and confirm that he was, indeed, more than alright, ended up in a gurgled non-sensical noise, but he trusted that Dean would get the message. His lips managed a small smile and then he was out.

* * *

"Sam...? Sam!" Dean had heard of passing out from an earth-shattering orgasm, and had even gone blank himself on one occasion that he'd shoved into the deepest, darkest crevasse of his memory. He'd always believed it to be exaggeration and bragging. Below him, warm golden-tan skin against Baby's slick, cool blue-black, Sam's entire body had gone limp. Head lolled to the side, hair tangled, his lids were lowered as if in sleep, his face sharply-angled yet peaceful. All muscle tone had slackened; arms and legs lay in whatever position they'd fallen. Pink and puffy, Sam's lips were half-open. His dick lay soft and at rest now against his thigh. 

Dean didn't know how it was possible that he could love another human so much. His chest might explode, if he thought about it too long. For the first few moments, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but fill his eyes with Sam's physical perfection. However anyone else saw his brother, Dean wouldn't change one thing, not even the floppy girlie hair, which he brushed back absent-mindedly. 

It shouldn't take long, Dean decided, for Sam to come around again. He'd give it ten minutes before he worried. Before the spit-and-cum mixture could congeal into a disgusting mess, he grabbed a relatively clean shirt and wiped Sam down carefully: his groin, the insides of his thighs, and the round spread of his ass cheeks against the metal of the car's hood. Still out, Sam murmured incoherently in his sleep or whatever his state was. 

Not sure what else to do, Dean crawled up next to his brother, thankful again for Detroit steel that could still hold their combined weight without denting. He took his lover, yes Sam had become that again and more, for now, into his arms and waited for him to wake up. 

* * *

Sam was in heaven. How else could the warm, cozy feeling be explained? He was floating and at the same time he was in Dean's arms. Sighing happily, he nuzzled his brother's chest with his nose and licked at it, making a small content noise when he tasted salt.

"So good," he mumbled. "Please, Dean, can we stay like this forever?"

* * *

"Would love it it we could. Like, if we could always come back here." His brother had come back into his own head, though he didn't move beyond his head, sleepy and blissed out. Dean felt warm breath against his neck, then the lapping swipes of Sam's wet tongue. "Mmmmm..." he moaned softly. After the earlier screams of passion, Dean couldn't concern himself with such small sounds. "Feels good. You have no idea how hot you are like that, begging me to let you empty those balls. And when you do, when you cum for me... I love you, Sammy. So much." Dean wished he could find better words than sex and mush to describe his intense feelings for his brother, but it would have to suffice.

Taking Sam's chin in his hand, Dean shifted them both till he could kiss his brother's velvet-soft lips, just once more. "'Spose we should move, though. Our clothes won't wash themselves."

* * *

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sam sighed again. "You know what? I'm sorry for always winding you up about being a Hausfrau. Right now, I'd settle for being the one to wash our clothes for the rest of our lives if we could stay here. No hunting. No," he swallowed, "no Dad. I should probably feel guiltier for saying this, but maybe it's our only chance for living normal."

Sam grabbed Dean's shirt and tightened his hand around it. "I shouldn't suggest this, but... do you think Ellema could make Dad forget that he ever had a wife and kids? He... he'd feel better if he didn't miss Mom so much and we could live a life without hunting."

* * *

"Well..." It made so much sense. Why did he and Sam have to be the ones to have to forget, to deny themselves happiness? Their dad was miserable and obsessed the way he was, too. Wouldn't it be the merciful thing to take away the loss of his wife along with the knowledge of ever having had children? Other than to teach them to hunt, he never seemed to have much interest in them. 

Dean tried to reason his way through it. "She sent Dad away. He doesn't remember being here or anything about Ellema – he thinks he's hunting pixies. Whatever we are between ourselves, out there we're still brothers and you're still underage." Sensing Sam would protest, he went on quickly, "I know, I know. Fake ID's, change our names. It's just... I trust Ellema BUT we both know Dad. I'd be forever looking over my shoulder, thinking he'd get his real memory back. He's the most pig-headed, stubborn, self-righteous "I'm always right" SOB I've ever met, and not just 'cuz he's our dad and has control of us. He's also smart, and an experienced hunter. Even if he forgot, eventually some other hunter would get hold of the great John Winchester," Dean rolled his eyes, "and he'd piece it back together..." 

Dean realized he was rambling, out of breath. He paused, not wanting to hyperventilate. "God, I'm pathetic. That's what it boils down to. Anything else, any monster, no problem, but I can't stand up to Dad." 

* * *

"You're not pathetic, Dean," Sam protested. "Never." He laughed without humor. "It's simply our lives that suck." He reached up and caressed his brother's cheek. "The only part of it that doesn't suck is that you're here. If not for that... I'm sure I'd have run away from Dad a long time ago." He snorted bitterly. "Who knows, I'd probably even have asked CPS for help."

Sam swallowed hard. "It isn't that I hate Dad, it's just that there isn't much I want more than a normal life – with you. And it hurts to see the possibility and at the same time know that you're right and it will never work."

He took a deep breath. "So all we can do is wait for me to grow up, and maybe then we can leave all this behind. If Ellema makes our memories return when we're both adults, we can get fake ID's – good fake ID's – and Dad can't force us to do what he wants anymore... I can't wait for that to happen. Meanwhile," he smiled, "let's make the best out of our time here."

Grinning, Sam kissed Dean's chest and pulled at his shirt. "I'll even enjoy doing laundry with you."

* * *

Dean listened to Sam's monologue, not alarmed but... concerned. Hearing Sam resign himself to the road before them, it seemed to stretch out in front of them, endless. His brother had a point, though. If this was all they were likely to get for years, they should savor it now. Hell, Dean had told himself the same thing, just hours before. Sam's mood lightened, and he plucked at Dean's shirt like he wanted it off.

"What's this, grabby-hands?" Dean chuckled. "If I'm a Hausfrau, what's that make you? Herr-boy?" He ruffled Sam's unruly mop of chestnut strands to clue him in to the pun. "It might suck that I'm here, 'cuz I suck hard. Right, Sammy? You oughta know!" 

Taking the hint, Dean pulled his tee-shirt off, which was more than a little awkward with them still piled together like puppies on Baby, to give Sam his free show. Dean lacked any sort of self-consciousness about his body. His 6'1" frame and trimmings was an attractive picture based on how other people responded to him, mostly in body language. It had hunter-trained strength, coordination enough that he could at least cross a room without tripping over his own feet, and it got the job done, in bed and out. It was also the conduit to his physical pleasure. Dean supposed he was lucky to be able to separate good from bad touch and enjoy the good as much as he did. His body wasn't perfect – that would've been weird. Unlike some guys, he wasn't ripped – he liked his bacon cheeseburgers and pie too much. The inexplicable bowlegs and freckles, which according to his father in a rare mellow moment were inherited from neither side of his family tree sometimes bothered him. Unashamedly, Dean could claim what he considered pretty nipples and facial features that bordered on feminine but with a strong jaw, broad cheekbones and for the past few years, bristly stubble if he wanted it to seem more rugged. Looks aside, Dean relished Sam staring at him, devotion and lust combined with little-brotherly admiration worn nakedly. 

"I'm sure that Ellema knows by now that we got distracted. She's incredibly gracious, to leave us to it. After we throw some laundry in the wash... Well, you know." Dean arched into the sensations of Sam working his lips, tongue and teeth on Dean's throat and upper chest, slowly moving down. "With or without her, either way. No pressure." 

* * *

Laughing, Sam replied, "If you're a Hausfrau, shouldn't that make me the Haus _herr_ rather than the Hausboy? As in, the master of the house? Or, since I offered to do the laundry with you, maybe we're both Hausfraus." He grinned slyly and leaned closer. "I bet you wouldn't say no to two girls doing each other, right?"

Meanwhile, Dean had taken the hint and removed his shirt, so Sam rubbed his nose against a pink nipple that perked up immediately. Delighted by the reaction, Sam began to suckle at the stiff bud. "Imagine we were both girls..." He teased the other nub with his hand. "Or if you'd rather think of guys doing each other... Since you said you suck, hard, how about this?" He rolled and pinched one nipple between his thumb and index finger, then bit down on the other one before sucking hard.

When Dean stiffened and groaned, Sam let up and gave his brother a challenging look. "Or we can have both. You and me and Ellema." Whatever she had done to him had apparently upped his stamina; that was the only possible explanation why Sam could harden again.

"How about we go seek her out before the laundry?" Sam's voice had turned hoarse. "I can't wait to see you lose it in her."

* * *

"You dirty boy, uh, man," Dean breathed. While he'd blown Sam, he'd been about half-hard, and his semi-erection had deflated since. But listening to Sam's out-loud fantasy of watching him on Ellema fixed that. Dean reached down to adjust himself, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Yeah, you'd be like, all sprung and aching for it, watching my ass while I go to town, and then you'd take over." He showed his teeth. "Sloppy seconds, Sam. That's what you want, isn't it? To slide in my cum....? Cooking up a fresh batch for you right now." 

Hopping off the car, Dean ordered, shit-eating grin firmly in place, "Put some pants on, and we'll go to her."

* * *

While Sam reached for his pants and shirt, Dean picked up the laundry they'd dropped earlier. "I still like the idea of me playing Hausfrau for you," he announced with a wide grin on his face. "I'd be wearing a starched apron and nothing else, so you'd have full access to my ass."

Watching Dean adjust himself, Sam licked his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I'm gonna slide in your juice and you... you could fuck me into her... If she's okay with that – I mean, I'm sure you'd love it." He grinned again.

* * *

"Oh, geez yeah, that bare little ass in back, a tent in front. Or maybe you can try on some of Ellema's panties." There'd been once Dean had done that, and he had kinda liked his junk wrapped up in pink satin. That would never fly, traveling with Dad, but he did keep the memory in his spank bank. 

What Sam suggested next practically crossed Dean's eyes. It might get complicated. That didn't mean they wouldn't do it. "I know I'd do that, fuck you into her, fuck you both like that, you being my proxy dick. We'll make a Sammy sandwich, assuming I can get it up again." He might need Ellema to do something. Already Dean's balls were throbbing right along with his dick, decidedly over-used. Shifting on his feet, he got a better grip on the clothes while Sam slipped into some clothes. At this rate, they'd both be presenting themselves to Ellema with hard-ones. But she'd probably like that. 

"Anyway, you asked me about two girls...? I've watched some make out at parties and stuff, but this'll be my first three-way." Despite himself, Dean turned a little pink. It wasn't typical for him to have to admit a lack of experience. He wouldn't lie about that to Sam, though. 

As soon as his brother was decent, Dean took off toward the house, telling Sam to grab the keys and relock the garage door. He struggled to get the door open with his arms full, then let himself in. "Hey, um, Ellema," he called out. "Where's your laundry room?" 

* * *

When Sam and Dean returned to the house, Dean asked HER where the laundry room was located. He was indeed carrying a huge load of dirty clothes in his arms, but SHE couldn't miss the tent in his jeans.

"Would 'laundry room' be a new euphemism for my bedroom?" SHE asked with a knowing grin.

* * *

"After today, it might be," Dean laughed weakly. "Unless you want our crusty clothes as room decor, though, I'd appreciate your washer, and that's no euphemism, either." He knew Ellema had noticed the ridge behind his zipper, and hence the word-play. "Ask Sam if you can find him an apron," he winked. "You might get some interesting results." 

* * *

Sam blushed beet red at Dean's suggestion. "Shut up," he hissed and kicked his brother's shin, making Dean yelp. 

He turned toward Ellema and stammered an excuse, "Sorry, I mean, just ignore him, please. I... we... were joking and... please, ignore Dean."

* * *

Watching Sam blush and stammer was endearing, but it was clear that the boy didn't enjoy his brother's teasing – at least not with HER witnessing it. SHE decided to have mercy. "I promise I won't ask." SHE smiled and looked at Dean. "So where do you want to go first, the laundry room or the _'laundry room?'"_

* * *

Dean wasn't about to cart the massive bundle of clothes up to Ellema's bedroom, and he was sure she didn't mean him to. Before he could answer, Sam kicked him and stammered out his apologies to their host. "Ow! Bitch!" Dean yelped, and sure enough there was a red bitchface pointed at him when he rounded on his brother, dropping everything, more to make a point than that he was injured. 

"Fine, fine," he said under his breath. "Don't be so serious, Sam. Just messing around." No doubt his 'advice' fell on deaf ears. His little brother could be touchy, part out of that awkward teen stage he hadn't entirely outgrown, and partly because he was moody anyway lately. Sex was supposed to be fun, though, including the lead-up banter. Yeah, it got majorly intense between him and Sam sometimes; Dean had always chalked that up to 'them' more than Sam. 

To Ellema he said, "Someone," meaning her by his intonation, "needs something. Like, now. So how about the _laundry room_ , then?" 

* * *

"Oh yes, someone needs something, and I don't think the washing machine is on top of their agenda," SHE snorted. "Still, let me help you find _relief_ with that _load_ first." SHE winked and nodded at the bags and clothes in Dean's arms.

SHE hadn't missed Sam's reaction. The boy was at a difficult age and obviously easily embarrassed, so SHE decided to concentrate on Dean to loosen up the situation. "Don't worry, I use liquid detergent, so there's no risk for you of dropping the soap." SHE grinned.

* * *

As soon as the focus was off him, Sam relaxed a little. He'd meant it when he'd suggested to dress up in the apron for Dean, but he wasn't comfortable sharing their secrets with an outsider yet. Which was ridiculous because he and Dean were about to have sex with Ellema, but somehow that was less intimate than his and Dean's secret fantasies.

Watching Ellema flirt with Dean gave Sam a warm feeling in his belly. If he'd been jealous of women in Dean's life before, it didn't apply to her because she wasn't vying for Dean's attention in terms of taking him away from Sam but giving him, them, something.

And her teasing of Dean made Sam laugh. He stood a little aside and held his breath as he waited for his brother's reaction.

* * *

"Relief for my load, huh? Well, you're welcome to help with that, 'cuz it's getting bigger and heavier by the second, but maybe in your upstairs _laundry room_. 'Less you're into some spin cycle action on top of your washing machine." Dean snorted, facing Ellema. OK, so women didn't get visible hard-ons, but he could see by the feline-stalking-prey expression and upright nipples under her blouse that she wanted it. 

He'd never shared such silly banter except with Sam. Women liked to hear about how beautiful they were, or how sexy, or how horny they made him. That went without saying, with these two. They could _see_ that outlined at his crotch. Stupid jeans! Why couldn't they design them with the zippers somewhere that didn't dig into his dick? His downstairs brain was starting to get the better of him – he felt like he was totally on display, not that he really minded.

Not knowing which way to go, still, Dean picked up the duffels and some of the clothes he'd dropped again and shuffled toward the kitchen. "If you're into liquid soap, there's always shower sex. Might get complicated with three!" He couldn't help laughing. 

* * *

"Complicated, huh?" SHE joined Dean's laughter. "Well, at least it won't be crowded with three. You've seen my bathroom, and the room I have in mind for you has a similar outfit."

SHE turned to Sam, "Trust me, it's very comfy. Forget about every motel bathroom and even about the small guest room downstairs. No, better, forget about the world outside and enjoy your brother's company."

"So, laundry. Please follow me, gentlemen."

* * *

Sam indicated that Dean should go first. While Ellema led them to a room with a washing machine, tumble dryer, and other housekeeping equipment, he couldn't stop staring at the walls, the floor, the decoration; everything was subtle and exquisite, the polar opposite of any environment Sam had ever spent time in. Every few steps he had to remind himself not to lag behind. Even the housekeeping room was larger than some apartments they'd stayed in over the years, and Sam couldn't help standing there in awe with his eyes and mouth wide open.

"Look at this, Dean..."

* * *

"Believe me, there's plenty of motel bathrooms in our past I'd just as soon forget," quipped Dean. He doubted Ellema had ever set foot in the sort of places they frequented. He was soon sorting their clothes into Ellema's machine. He'd start with dark and cotton, since a lot of their wardrobe consisted of jeans and flannels. 

At a slower pace, Sam trailed along. A glance back revealed him gawking around at every corner of the rooms they passed through. Dean had had to consciously prevent himself from doing the same the night before. Now that Dean was hunting more, had been for years, though, he'd been to some nice neighborhoods and inside upscale houses. Sam had been on considerably fewer hunts and they were the easier type, salt-and-burns and poltergeists. The former was all late-night graveyard digging. Poltergeists tended to stick to nasty old digs. 

"What is it, Sam?" Dean distractedly replied to his brother's request. He'd been trying to decipher the setting on the washer control. Laundromats' were simple: Wash, rinse, spin. Hot, warm cold. This had many more combinations, and temperature settings in degrees. "Look at what?" He'd have teased Sam about the miraculous invention of the squeegee or the shiny new upright vacuum and its possible attachments but Sam hadn't responded well to being ribbed in front of Ellema. 

* * *

"This... all of this!" Sam's voice came out high with excitement. "This whole place is amazing. I can't believe we're... allowed to stay here." He addressed Ellema. "These pictures and artworks, they're originals, right? From Egypt?" Sam just about managed to swallow down that he'd meant to say 'from your home', but she didn't have a home any longer. "I'd like to learn more about them."

Dean gave him a sharp look, and Sam added, blushing, "Um, I mean, later, perhaps..."

* * *

"Thank you, Sam," SHE replied, keeping HER voice serious although the boy's enthusiasm was not only endearing but also amusing. "I'm sure we'll have a lot of time for that and I'd love to tell you about my country. First, though," SHE stood closer to Sam as they watched Dean loading the laundry into the machine, "let's help your brother."

SHE winked at Sam, then stepped over to Dean. "Please let me. My maid runs this place but I've learned to handle it, too." SHE dialed up the appropriate program and started the machine. "Speaking about which, I will call her later and suggest she take a few days paid leave. The less people know you're here, the lower is the risk of something going wrong."

SHE smiled at the brothers. "And now, shall I show you the _other_ laundry room?"

* * *

Dean was about to say something to Sam about _right now_ not being the time to geek out, but Ellema beat him to it, more or less. A lot more graciously than an 'older-brother-is-sporting-wood-now-so-shut-up', Ellema promised a history and art lesson later. Dean had found that interesting, so he'd listen in, and Sam, bless his nerdy little heart, would be in heaven. Again. But they had other business first, and Dean was pretty sure that his sibling's dirty mind had initiated that. 

When Ellema offered to work the controls, Dean stepped aside without arguing. This was her turf. She'd mentioned a maid before, something about this employment being the woman's means of feeding her family. "Call her up! She doesn't need her eyes and ears burned by... you know," he chuckled, secretly pleased that he and Sam wouldn't be cause for anyone's missing paycheck. 

He didn't think on Ellema's generosity for long – she was as eager as he and Sam. Although Dean knew the way to the stairs, he deferred to her lead. No point in missing an opportunity to check out her ass. Since he had no clue what Sam's taste in women was, he decided to let him follow directly after Ellema while Dean brought up the rear on the tall staircase. 

Now there was an interesting concept. The day they'd "broken up", Sam had screamed at him, "I like dick!" – his point being, if it didn't have a dick, exclusively Dean's, he didn't like it. Funny how things changed. But, since they wouldn't remember this, he would never know for sure, till they were out in the world again. 

Then they were standing before a door down the hallway from the room Dean knew to be Ellema's, which he assumed would be his and Sam's. Dean had never stayed a whole night with a woman. It made total sense to him if she wanted to kick them out after the sex, so she could sleep comfortably or simply have some personal space. "This is our room, for later?" he asked.

* * *

"It is your room," SHE confirmed. "Now that you know where it is, I suggest we show Sam my room first."

* * *

Now that it became clear that the three of them having sex was actually going to take place, Sam grew nervous. He was tempted to ask if Ellema had a library where he could hide out while she and Dean did the deed, but he pushed the thought away immediately: his initial hope had been to watch Dean having sex with a woman, and that was still what he wanted. His dick twitched even harder at the idea of Dean 'fucking him into her', but he suddenly felt shy. Also, as much as Ellema had helped them, Sam didn't love her and he'd sworn to himself that he'd never have sex with someone he didn't love. 

Sam's head was spinning a little when he followed Ellema and Dean to her room – and then his jaw dropped as he took in her bed. He felt like a sleepwalker when he touched the silk sheet. It was clean and emitted a light fragrance, but the room held an underlying musky scent, a mixture of something alien and Dean's sweat and semen.

He swallowed hard and looked at his brother with wide eyes. "I, um, dunno... How do we... I mean... Dean, could you... What am I supposed to do now?"

* * *

Sam was nervous, Dean could tell; he could practically smell it: he held his hands a certain way he only did when he was uncomfortable, and Sam's eyes were showing the whites. Checking all corners of the room, Sam approached the bed, touching the sheet, which Dean noted had been changed. "You don't have to do anything, Sam. You could just – sit over there," Dean flicked his eyes at the seating area, then back at his brother. "We'll start, and you can join in if or when you want." 

He moved toward Ellema, bare feet sinking into the soft rug, slowly so that either of the others could stop him if they didn't like what he was doing. When they didn't, he circled around Ellema, standing directly behind her. Holding Sam's eyes, he pushed her mass of mahogany hair aside and kissed the side of her neck. Sliding both arms around her waist, he tilted his hips forward to press his hard length against her backside. Finally! Some friction! Dean showed Sam his pink tongue, then licked up the tendon on the side of Ellema's throat. Not surprising, she moaned and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. So far Sam hadn't moved, well, except below the belt which was involuntary. 

Looking away, Dean turned Ellema around in his arms and walked her backwards to the edge of the bed. It might be easier for Sam if they ignored him till he was ready to make his presence known. "Miss me?" he murmured near Ellema's ear, lifting her up. "Just us right now, OK?" 

She was probably better at reading the situation than he gave her credit for: she made an assenting noise and slid back into the middle of the bed – several feet, since it was so huge. "Oh, gonna make me chase you?" he grinned, and bounced in her direction.

* * *

Sam's discomfort was so obvious that SHE cringed inwardly. To HER relief, Dean, who knew his younger brother, took the initiative and suggested to Sam that he was free to join them or not, or at any moment but only if and when he felt like it. Sam relaxed considerably, and Dean took that as his cue to come closer to HER.

SHE'd had threesomes before, but it had been a long time ago, and never with a novice to sex like Sam was. As much as SHE wanted Dean, SHE also wanted it to be good for Sam. The slight apprehension had HER less ready than Dean probably expected, but SHE was confident that just being close to his incredible body would soon take care of that.

SHE needn't have worried. Dean stood behind HER and placed soft kisses and nips on HER neck. SHE was sure that although Dean's mouth was on HER, his eyes were on Sam, and SHE smiled at the boy, too, to help disperse his nervousness. Then, the heat from Dean's hard length made HER gasp when he pressed against HER, and all SHE could concentrate on was the lust that suddenly coursed through HER body.

Dean moved them to the bed and whispered in HER ear his tactic to ignore Sam for now. His body was enough of a distraction to make that easy for HER when SHE slithered to the center of the bed and held out HER arms at him. "Not asking you to chase me," SHE purred, "just making sure we don't fall out of bed if things should get heated in a little while."

As soon as Dean reached HER, SHE nuzzled his neck and bit his earlobe. "Shall we prove physics wrong by showing that taking our clothes off will make us even hotter?"

SHE risked a quick glance at Sam. Taking the focus off him seemed to work: Dean had indicated for him to sit on the love-seat, but Sam had flopped down on the soft carpet close to the bed. The hint of a smile graced his lips and he looked at ease, which made HER wink at him before returning HER attention to his brother. 

"Let me..." SHE whispered as SHE slid HER hands under Dean's shirt and rubbed his nipples until they stiffened up. "Mmh, I need to taste these," SHE announced and pushed the garment up to lick at the now hard pebbles. "Lift your arms so I can get this off you," SHE indicated the shirt, "and I'll give you a reward for being a good boy," SHE grinned.

* * *

"Things will definitely get hotter with our clothes off," Dean replied, voice all gravel. Ellema and Sam seemed to be engaged in some type of wordless communication between them, and Dean supposed that was alright; he wanted to reinforce to Sam that he wasn't being excluded and would be welcomed any time. Ellema's teeth pinched his earlobe, sending exquisite shivers through his entire body, curling his toes. Her fingers burrowed under his shirt and pushed it up till she reached her goal, where she worked his nipples into stiff little peaks. Before he could even moan, she replaced fingers with tongue, lapping at one tight bud then the other. Her tongue had a slightly different texture than Sam's, rougher. He'd never considered before how that trait could vary from person to person.

Belatedly, Dean pulled his tee-shirt off and tossed it. His cheeks and ears went hot when she called him a 'good boy'. It sounded kinky. That in and of itself didn't pose a problem for Dean. Thinking back, he'd been in the in-charge role the few times he and Sam had experimented, like with spanking. With girls, he was bigger and stronger and it went without saying... but Ellema was both a woman and something more. If she felt she needed to – or wanted to – she could overpower him. So he accepted the praise with a duck of his head. By then, she was busy at his tingling nipples. Dean tried to keep his moans down out of habit, and reached for her shirt. 

The angle was awkward. He was trying to remain upright on his knees with a heavy, blood-filled erection straining to break his zipper and raw balls in order to allow Sam to see. Like the day before, Ellema wore a silk blouse with the requisite bra underneath. She – or her job requirements – weren't much for casual clothes. Dean managed to fumble open the buttons – he needed to get his hands and mouth on her satin-smooth mocha skin, too. In the process, he 'accidentally' brushed his wrists or the backs of his hands against her stiff peaks a few times. Her dark eyes darted up at him too from chest-level. A nip to one sensitive pink bud made him arch and blurt out a startled, "Ah! Ah!"

Need was starting to make him jittery. Somehow, his body produced more pre-come and squeezed a gooey drop up his urethra to the tip of his dick, where it soaked into his boxers. More followed. Ellema's shirt and bra joined his on the floor, her breasts cupped in his hands before he could even think about it. Dean loved Sam's flat chest and tiny male nipples, but he loved tits, too, always had since he'd been old enough to have a sex drive. His mouth dropped open in pure pleasure at the weight and plushness of those soft mounds. Call it instinct, even regression, he didn't give a shit, Dean's mouth watered, and he had the strangest craving to just lie down with Ellema and knead and suckle at those soft, generous breasts for a good long time. "Please..." he finally asked, "can we switch? Wanna taste you, too."

* * *

"Yeah, I'd like that," SHE whispered hoarsely when Dean more or less begged HER to switch positions, "but not before I free you." SHE wanted to, _needed to_ , touch his erection that was bulging impossibly behind the zipper. In HER opinion, Dean's ass looked fantastic in his jeans, but the garment clearly wasn't designed to contain his dick in its current state.

Within a second, SHE'd opened the button and had HER fingers on the zipper, pulling it down slowly and carefully, and groaning when his musk hit HER nose. The scent of him! SHE didn't doubt there were men who'd kill to wear _that_ as a cologne. HER heart sped up and HER mouth watered with anticipation: so very soon SHE'd have HER lips wrapped around him! The thought almost made HER swoon and SHE sank against Dean's chest.

"Better but not quite right yet," SHE commented. "You'll have to get up for a sec so we can push your pants down. Or," SHE smiled, "Lay on your back and lift that gorgeous butt you have and I'll pull them off. Before sucking you off. If you want that, that is."

* * *

"Oh, I want it..." Dean whispered. The slight contact of Ellema carefully undoing his fly provoked an involuntary jerk of his pelvis in her direction. "Ah... better," he sighed, dick springing out of the too-tight confinement still covered in his damp spot-adorned boxers. At Ellema's direction, he lay down, then lifted his ass. Besides being eager to get him naked, she seemed intent on inhaling him. Her eyes glittered up at him as she bent down over his groin, nostrils flared wide. Dean had had his nose in Sam's crotch many times so he got the appeal. Since his nuts felt almost raw inside from overuse, he was confident he could hold out for a long time, so that Sam could get his wish of watching Dean making love to a woman. 

Together he and Ellema got the rest of his clothes off. Dean shoved a couple pillows under his head and spread his legs wide to make some room. Reaching down, he grasped himself, hissing as his dick jumped at his own touch. "Can't wait for this, I know how good you are!" Stroking himself a few times, he glanced at Sam, but he couldn't see much, only his hair and the top half of his face. Meanwhile, Ellema wiggled down between his thighs, licking her lips, and he offered himself to her. 

* * *

"Great minds think alike," SHE smirked when Dean admitted that he wanted 'it'. "Because I want that, too." While they struggled to get him undressed, SHE already licked HER lips, greedy and impatient to suck on him.

Yet, when Dean had found a comfortable position on the bed and praised HER by telling HER that he couldn't wait, SHE was torn between giving in and making him lose it quickly or choosing a slow, languid approach. Both were highly appealing and SHE was sure that although Dean might whine if SHE took too much time, he'd have no reason to complain about the final result.

SHE leaned down and breathed him in again. Dean was stroking himself, which made HER suddenly realize how wet SHE was for him: it wasn't only that Dean touching himself was incredibly hot, but also that he had no inhibitions over displaying his desire. SHE bowed HER head and nuzzled his thigh with HER nose, feeling each and every one of the soft hairs covering skin over firm muscle. Again, SHE noticed several scars on his thighs, and SHE began lapping at them and kissing them to show him that SHE accepted them as a part of him.

It was, however, only a matter of – a very short – time before SHE returned HER attention to his erection. The purple tip that crowned the proud and slightly curved, thick shaft was shining wet. The base was surrounded by a nest of soft blond-reddish curls although his balls were shaved. Smiling, SHE promised HERself that SHE'd take care of the twin glands in a moment, but first SHE wanted a taste of that gorgeous young cock.

A few quick tongue flicks around the swollen head made Dean moan – which was echoed a second later by Sam from his spot on the floor. SHE rested HER head on Dean's thigh and continued teasing him with HER tongue, licking over the flared ridge and into the leaking slit, sampling his offerings. The position enabled HER to watch the younger brother, and what SHE saw made HER gasp: Sam was sitting on the carpet next to the bed with wide, almost glassy eyes and an open mouth. He was still fully dressed, but SHE couldn't miss that his hand was in his pants, playing with himself.

For now, SHE decided to let the boy be and continue to enjoy Dean's body, confident that Sam would join them when he was ready.

* * *

The slow lead-up suited Dean and he shuddered in delight, goose-flesh breaking out when Ellema huffed out her warm breath over his thighs, kissing the scars there and rustling the hairs. The previous night he'd felt a connection to her. Not like Sam, not anywhere as strong or permanent but something. Whatever it was deepened just a little more now, as Ellema showed her acceptance of the evidence of his rough life by not shying away, and also not making a big deal about it. 

Starting with swipes of her tongue across the screaming nerve endings of his glans and especially the ridge around the head, Ellema drew him in. Dean opened his mouth, spread his legs wider and arched his back. Her lips tightened around his shaft as she took more and more, till he hit the back of her throat. Gamely, Ellema swallowed around the head, a massaging squeeze. Dean keened in pleasure. "Oh god that's good. Suck it...!" 

The world narrowed to her amazing mouth hot and wet and _pulling_ around Dean's cock. From somewhere nearby Dean heard Sam moan, too. Thrusting shallowly, more just tilting his hips up, Dean turned his head to see Sam's eyes squinched shut in concentration. "Ellema... would you roll my balls? Carefully, though... They're well-used." 

* * *

SHE laughed and blew on the wet tip of Dean's dick. "They had quite a work-out tonight already, and am I right in assuming that that wasn't the last time they were, um, exercised?" SHE teased. "And of course a proper work-out should always be followed by a massage."

After giving him a radiant smile, SHE resumed HER licking and sucking, then carefully cupped Dean's balls in HER hand. At first, SHE weighed the hardened glands, acknowledging that they felt full and were likely very tender, so SHE didn't roll them as Dean had suggested, but used HER free hand to give them featherlight strokes, while working HER mouth only on the glans with lighter suckling than before.

After a while, SHE let go of his dick, let it bob gently against Dean's belly and looked up at him. "Tell me if it gets to be too much," SHE said before nuzzling down his dick until HER tongue could reach Dean's balls and reward them with tiny kitten licks. 

* * *

"Massage...yeah..." Dean purred at the suggestion. The teasing had him raising his hips, belly trembling, toes curling and uncurling. "Mmmm... yes, yes!" All of Ellema's tiny licks felt so good, so needed, bringing him in the slowest spiral that he'd ever experienced toward a far-distant climax. Then her velvet-rasp tongue would catch him just right and he'd spurt a little more slick. Or gasp. Or writhe his spine in the slowest grind possible. 

It was almost like rediscovering his hot spots. Whenever she got close to one, his nerve endings would go on red alert. When a few of Ellema's taste buds brushed just inside his slit, for example, Dean cried out embarrassingly. All the little veins along the barrel of his dick were standing out, just waiting to be traced. Ellema did that, one flick of the tongue at a time while Dean held his breath, sure his width must have stretched some from the amount of congested blood. His balls grew heavier as she held them in one palm, moving on to lick all over his sac, too. He was glad he'd had a chance to shave before they'd hooked up. While Dean wasn't very hairy compared to a lot of dudes, it was his preference to be manscaped in that way. The thinner skin over the – the only term that came to mind was 'equators' – of twin glands was the most sensitive. Ellema honed right in on that, but didn't miss a square millimeter. He made no move to touch himself, just let his erection pulse against his belly, slowly drooling a wet pool onto it. 

For a long time, Dean just lay there buzzing on one hell of an endorphine rush. He let Ellema have her way while he rubbed his back and ass against her silk sheet, stared up blankly or alternately squeezed his eyes shut, and let himself be worshiped. But eventually, he started to feel a little guilty for being selfish. Like dragging himself through thick mud, he struggled up onto his elbows. "Love what you're doing." As if she couldn't tell! "Wanna make you feel good, too. You're gonna cum so many times tonight." Since he didn't know yet, Dean didn't include any suggestion as to who would make her do that: himself or Sam or both. "C'mere... Let me taste... me." 

Both Sam's pre-cum and his own was sugary, no hardship there. Ellema looked uncertain, so he tried again. "Or I can taste you." That got a smile; her pupils dilated more than they already were. Sitting up more, Dean helped her up onto her knees and pushed her skirt up her smooth thighs. A second later, the scent of her arousal hit him, musky but more acidic than a male's. "Those panties are soaked, aren't they? We'll get to that – leave 'em on for now." 

Watching her every reaction, Dean pulled the woman in against him. God, it thrilled him when they were so eager like this. Ellema ground against him and tilted her head up. Their kisses were light, a sharing of his taste. He skimmed his hands over Ellema's more than half-naked body, down to her ass, then further. Damp heat radiated from her. Already Dean's dick was begging like the shameless little fucker that it was to get up in there, and he whined a little, too. Rocking sideways, he rolled them down onto their sides and pulled her leg up over his hip. 

* * *

Eventually, Dean pulled himself together and suggested he wanted to taste himself. Intoxicated by his scent, HER brain needed a while to decipher the message, and before SHE could move to kiss him, he was already helping HER kneel up on the bed. SHE hissed with disappointment when Dean told HER to not take HER underwear off for now: not only was SHE sopping wet, but leaving HER panties on meant he wasn't about to take HER.

HER disappointed whine turned into an almost feral growl, however, when he began to rub HER clit through the soaked silk. "Mmmm... Mmmore..." SHE begged breathlessly when Dean laid HER down on the bed in a fluid motion and pulled HER closer. HER pussy was so close to his dick that SHE felt the heat surge from him, but with HER panties on, SHE couldn't get close enough – if SHE weren't wearing them SHE was sure, Dean's erection would be sucked right into HER body!

Instead, SHE rolled HER hips against his teasing fingers that sent waves of agonizing desire through HER. SHE was so close...

* * *

Sam had always thought that the sounds Dean made during sex were the sweetest music that could ever exist on earth. Now he learned that watching without being distracted by Dean's hands on him was an awe-inspiring experience, too. True, as much as he wanted to see Dean have sex with a woman, he hadn't been really comfortable with the idea. What he hadn't expected was that it would turn out to be so arousing for himself to watch his brother get off. Dean was getting close if Sam read him right. 

Then, the roles on the bed changed and Dean started pleasuring Ellema. Sam didn't know what to do. He wanted to continue on Dean what Ellema had started, but wasn't ready to join them yet. He keened softly as he continued to knead the bulge in his jeans and waited impatiently for Dean to speed up whatever he was doing to Ellema so that Dean could... fuck her...

* * *

Heh, so Ellema wasn't so patient after all. Not to mention the noises and furtive motions from the floor. Dean rubbed the wet silk covering Ellema from true exposure, finding her clit. A minute later though, he decided that teasing her through the underwear wasn't as great as it was cracked up to be and slithered his fingers under. Ellema blurted her pleasure and bucked against him. "So needy for it... for me." It was meant as praise, though now that Dean knew what she was, he felt a little bit odd saying things like that to her.

Ellema was pulling at him, trying to get onto her back and finally with a crinkle of his eyes to acknowledge it, Dean followed his body's urgings and Ellema and let herself fall back. He drew her panties down her long legs and tossed them in Sam's direction, but instead of taking her, he slid down the bed and rolled between her legs, pushing them wider, both hands kneading at her thighs while he sank down, dropping a line of kisses and licks down her belly. "Come on my tongue," he ordered, pleased at her flushed, panting, disheveled state, "and then I'll fuck you." 

Before he could even lick once across her intimate parts, Ellema was thrusting up at him again. "Easy, easy," he gentled her, thumbs holding her labia open. At the top of her slit, her clit stood out from the rest of the deep pink folds, like a beacon. Dean attacked with every bit of skill he possessed. First he licked a straight up and down pattern along the tiny shaft, then circled the button head of it till she cried out with each pass. Sure Ellema was on the edge already, he slid two fingers deep into her pussy, turning his hand palm-up and hooking his digits. At the same time, he sucked her pleasure organ between his lips and darted his tongue across it as fast as he could. Her hips jerked; her back arched to such a degree it looked painful, and the tendons in her thighs stood out on either side of his head, tight with built-up tension. "Let it go," he demanded, pressing the swollen area inside and lashing his tongue till it started to ache.

* * *

Dean had barely finished speaking when SHE was _there:_ after the long build-up, SHE reached the point of no return within seconds, and then SHE was moaning, thrashing, coming hard. When the spasms subsided, SHE knew they'd only just begun, the need to be filled by Dean was even stronger than before.

"In me, now," SHE groaned. "You promised."

* * *

"I know, I promised," Dean agreed, meeting her eyes. Ellema's desire hadn't been slaked in the slightest. Spread out before him, she crackled with some sort of power. It was like she reeled him in – Dean got to his hands and knees and crawled up to cover her. "...give it to you now." 

The only thing holding him back was that, when Sam had said he wanted to watch, Dean had visualized his brother either standing next to the bed or sitting on it where he'd have a clear view of everything. Instead, he sat on the floor. Maybe he could see them in profile but no more. Besides being huge, Ellema's bed consisted of a boxspring and thick mattress, the surface high off the floor. Dean reared up again, which Ellema whined at, and shot a look at Sam. So far, he'd mostly ignored Sam so as not to make him run away from the scene. "Gonna do it, fuck her, make love to her." He remembered Sam's choice of words. "If you wanna see this, see me..." Dean let the words trail off. Sam met his gaze, eyes burning, hopelessly aroused. It wasn't jealousy, thankfully. Or fear. He wasn't pissed off, but why did Sam keep back.

Well, he'd given warning. Sam knew what Dean would do in two seconds or less. Hell, who wouldn't, his body sweaty and flushed, kneeling between Ellema's spread thighs while her naked breasts heaved and her entire body undulated with need? In profile, Dean's thick upright cock jutting from his groin and the heavy sac below attested to his own status. 

* * *

Sam had watched with burning eyes, and he was about to get up and join them on the bed when Dean addressed him. However, he was so awed that he could hardly move, and he struggled to his feet rather gracelessly, then he undressed – rather gracelessly, too, as his raging erection didn't exactly help. Standing there naked, he stared at his brother and the girl with eyes that were dark with passion.

* * *

Finally, Sam got up and approached the bed, shedding his clothes. His movements were less than graceful, but Dean didn't comment on that. Sam needed encouragement now, not the opposite. Ellema reached for him but Dean whispered, "Wait," watching his brother. Clearly he was aroused, erect and leaking, nipples hard and tiny, his flat chest rising and falling rapidly with nerves and desire. Tall and slender and tanned everywhere but where a small pair of shorts would cover him, Sam was Dean's ideal of masculine beauty, but it wasn't just that, it was everything that made them 'them'. 

Since his birthday and also earlier today, Sam wasn't a virgin any longer in any manner of speaking, but he still carried some air of shy innocence. Having carried on sexually with him for two years, Dean also had seen his brother become the embodiment of hedonism. He could be pushy and demanding. And sweet. So many sides to Sam, and Dean loved them all. "Come here," he growled, twisting to the side and holding out his arms. Sam had said he wanted to see, but Dean wanted to touch him first, to assure himself and Sam this was all good. 

* * *

Now that he'd approached Ellema and Dean, Sam was overwhelmed by their scents. How could he have missed it before? Dean's sweat and semen had been lingering, a remainder of their night, but the heady mix of them made his nostrils flare. 

Dean reached out to him, but Sam knew how badly Ellema wanted his brother, and he felt torn between feeling his brother's hands on him and not disappointing her by taking Dean away. She must have noticed his dilemma because she smiled at him when she spoke, "Welcome, Sam, and I mean it."

Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding in, Sam turned to his brother, and his heart skipped a beat when the strong arms pulled him close. Sam rubbed his nose against Dean's neck and felt safe now, despite the – relative – stranger in the bed. Inhaling the musky aroma of Dean's pre-cum let a surge of his own blurt from his slit – right onto Ellema's thigh!

Horrified, Sam drew back, but she laughed and whispered, "This is one of the nicest compliments I've had in a while."

Sam's smile in return was a little shaky, but it widened when she suggested, obviously turned on, "If you want to make out with Dean, I won't mind at all."

Again, he held his breath and looked at his brother for clues as to how to go on.

* * *

Funny, because here he was, kneeling between Ellema's spread thighs with her juices smeared over the lower half of his face, and Dean needed to touch Sam. Ellema's express permission made it easy to bridge the gap – Dean hauled Sam against his side, first using his free arm to wipe his face. "Sammy..." he groaned. So different, this hard, whip-thin body against him compared to Ellema's lush curves, and didn't that make him even harder? Dean let his hands wander freely over his brother's sleek hips and up and down his long back but held himself back from plundering Sam's mouth – he knew damn well what he'd taste like. Had Sam done – that – with Nicole? To this day, he had no idea.

* * *

Sam closed his eyes when he saw Dean moving in for a kiss, but opened them again when their lips didn't touch. His brain was slow, but he figured out that Dean hesitated because he'd just... gone down on Ellema. He felt heat rising in his cheeks. Watching Dean bringing her off had been incredibly hot. Sam had done that only once, and he didn't want to think about how he and Nicole had got together, but he'd felt incredible licking her until she exploded. He also knew how it felt to have Dean's tongue and mouth on him... 

With a desperate groan, Sam closed the distance and kissed his brother hard. Lips and teeth clashing, he forced his tongue into Dean's mouth, suddenly urgent to claim Dean as his. When they eventually had to break the kiss for breath, he moved his mouth to Dean's ear. He licked and nibbled at the shell until Dean was writhing and moaning helplessly. Grinning to himself, Sam gave the earlobe a sharp bite, then took his brother's face into his hands. Dean's pupils were blown with lust when Sam told him, "Do you know how I love it when you fall apart under my kisses?" 

He rubbed his nose against Dean's meaningfully and knelt up, pulling Dean up, too, so that he could line up their dripping dicks against each other and wrap a hand around them. With his other hand, he pulled Dean close again and resumed kissing him. "Wanna take you so close to coming that you beg for it. Maybe Ellema or I will have mercy..."

Sam had no idea where his sudden courage came from, but he remembered that he'd sometimes played such games with Dean, who'd gotten off on it back then. The mental image of Dean begging for release made his dick surge and release another splash of pre-cum.

He was so focused on kissing Dean that he almost missed how Ellema came to kneel next to them. It was Dean's sharp hisses and gasps that told Sam that Ellema was playing with Dean's ears, which was bound to drive his brother crazy. 

* * *

Sam dove into him, and from there, it was sensory overload after sensory overload. Going from hesitant to insistent, Sam kissed him through Ellema's taste, slick tongue invading Dean's mouth while he plastered his body along Dean's side. All that bare skin, his to touch and rub up against and Dean did, unable to keep his hands off Sam's butt, his arms, his shoulders and chest, one well-known body part after another – he could never get enough. A long string of drool oozed from Dean's slit, anointing Sam's lower belly. It seemed like his own body was over-sensitized, so that every stray caress went straight to his groin where everything was blood-filled and so fucking hard.

Tongues twining, curling, they kissed deeply, till air ran out. As Dean gasped in much needed oxygen through swollen lips, Sam moved to his ear. It was one of his hot spots, and Sam licked relentlessly. Unable to control the trembles that ran up his body or the noises wrenched from his chest, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and thrust at nothing. Sam was right there again for him. He nudged up even closer and wrapped a hand around both of their erections. Slick and tight, he stroked them together. Reflexively, Dean followed suit and wrapped his hand over Sam's.

Warm breath cascaded over his other ear. He could barely make sense of what Sam said in the middle of the double assault, but it was to the effect that his brother and Ellema would hold him on edge till he begged for his release. 'Begged' – Dean blushed. He had never submitted willingly to anyone but Sam; whatever Ellema got out of him was a lot more subtle, or supernatural. With Sam, he _wanted_ to give control over to his brother sometimes, when Sam got into a mood where he needed that. One of these times, Dean would put Sam through his paces, too, but not now, not when things were tentative. He curved his other arm around Ellema's back, making them three.

"Sam... I'm getting close..." His cock was coated his Sam's secretions mixed with his own, beet red and had there not been hands wrapped around it, it would have been tucked up tight to his belly, it was that tumescent. Of their own accord, Dean's knees slid apart on the sheet and he forked his stupid bowlegs around Sam's thigh, grinding out an animalistic rhythm. Just when he needed faster, tighter, Sam slowed and slackened his grip. Just as Dean had known he would. "You think sexual torture is good for Dean, huh?" he gasped. "It's gonna be your balls suffering right along with mine, y'know."

Like Sam's body was giving him the raspberry, a spurt of pre-cum hit him in the belly. It dripped, an excruciating tickle, down his happy trail and into his pubes. "Should taste him, Ellema... he's sweeter than me... if he'll let you," he said to the woman, who had so far made no move to touch his brother. "Your call, Sammy. She gives awesome blow jobs. Maybe even as good as me," he smirked.

* * *

SHE bowed HER head at Dean's compliment and smiled at him conspiratorily. "Maybe Sam would like both of us to lick him," SHE suggested.

The younger brother's eyes went wide at that. With his blown pupils and open, panting mouth, he was the epitome of sexual need, and SHE hadn't even counted his purple, profusely-leaking erection in. Long, thick, and uncut, SHE couldn't wait to wrap HER lips around him and suck him in deep, give him more pleasure than he'd ever felt until he forgot even his name. 

_If_ he'd let HER, which was why SHE waited for Dean's reaction instead of plunging in like SHE wanted to.

* * *

No kidding, Sam thought when Dean announced that he was close: Sam wasn't even a second behind. The burning need, the throbbing in his balls, the yearning, pulling sensation in his lower body screamed for release, but Dean's follow-up that Sam's balls would be suffering along with his made him wonder if being forced to hold back, like he'd intended for Dean, would make it even better.

Oh, Sam hated to be denied, but every time Dean had done it to him, he'd come so hard that he'd almost passed out. He was still pondering his options – not an easy task since he had less than a single working cell in his upstairs brain – when Ellema added her own to Dean's suggestion, and Sam's need hit the no-return point.

"Oh god, yes, please, Ellema, I want you to suck me," he begged breathlessly. "Please, Dean, I need your tongue in me. Please, god, I need to cum so bad!" he whined.

* * *

Dean could think of a few ways to accomplish that: Sam lying on his side with himself and Ellema to his front and back. Or, Sam just as he was now, maybe spreading his knees wide, and Ellema and Dean getting down – going down – even further to bring his brother off. The best option presented itself and Dean pulled his mouth off Sam's collarbone to appeal to Ellema. He slid one hand down to his brother's ass, palming the tight cheeks and teasing the tips of his fingers along the crease. Simultaneously, he took hold of the base of Sam's dick, gently extricated himself from Sam's grip, and offered his brother's sex to Ellema, who was eying them so hungrily, eyes gone black and wide, she was almost scary. "Go on, taste him," Dean invited. "When he's ready, I want him spread over your face, riding it, and I'm gonna go down on him from behind."

Sam's needy noises and desperate little hip-rolls said he was more than amenable. Kneeing Sam's thighs wide, Dean got in back of him, kissing the scattered moles on his strong shoulders for a minute, licking his shoulder blades and then down his spine, getting to all fours when bending down became too awkward. At the top of his crack, Dean poked his tongue into the little dip over Sam's tailbone. His brother shuddered hard. Dean wished he could see what Ellema was doing – he had experienced her skilled mouth, too. As for his own, he dragged his lips down so far down he could see the back of Sam's sac. Grasping one buttcheek in each hand, Dean pulled them apart to expose the pink hole. "Gotta, Sam, mmph!" Fuck waiting – Dean licked across that miraculously healed rim, no longer puffy from his earlier use. Sam clenched, and Dean chased the furl inward, wiggling his tongue into the center.

* * *

"Nuuhhh!" Before Sam could continue pondering how the other two had turned the tables on him, Dean and Ellema attacked him from both sides.

Kneeling on the bed, he threw his head back when Ellema swallowed him down to the root and massaged his crown with her throat muscles. If that wasn't enough to bring him off within seconds, Dean kicked his legs apart and, after a few licks across Sam's hole, began to tongue-fuck him. His initial attempts to thrust into Ellema were stalled by her strong hands on his hips. Then, as soon as Dean began working him open, he wanted to push backwards, but he was again efficiently prevented by Ellema.

"Yes, yes, oh please!" Sam managed to press out between moans and grunts that turned into disappointed whines and cries when Dean pulled his swollen and aching balls down.

* * *

The fluttering of Sam's hole interspersed with stronger pulses, letting Dean know how close Sam really was. Reaching between Sam's strained thighs from behind, Dean got a good grip on his full balls and held them from crawling any further upwards. The heavy stones' cords twitched and pulled against him, and Sam wailed. Ellema's chin bumped the back of his hand, her saliva and Sam's sweat complicating things. 

Unrelenting, Dean pushed his face into Sam's ass and licked fervently. He stabbed into the tightly closed opening, his own spit easing the pinkish rim wide enough for him to tongue-fuck his brother. Sam loved and hated that, because this was the most sensitive outer surface being played and tickled, but Dean didn't touch his prostate. Not yet. "Let me know if you want me to let him go," Dean spoke to Ellema. "And get ready, 'cuz he has so much freakin' jizz in these balls," he gave them a gentle squeeze, then speared his sloppy-wet tongue inside again, flailing it around. 

From his own position, Dean's dick hung like hot iron between his own legs. His balls had swollen with more cream. Dribbles wet the silk under him. He wanted to get down and hump the sheet, but didn't dare allow himself the friction. In the throes of it, Sam had made a couple demands, and Dean was sure he'd do so again, but it was too soon for it to be over. Ellema must be turning inside out, or whatever the female version of blueballs did to a woman, despite the climax he'd brought her to, orally. 

"Beg for it Sam," Dean ground out at the next breath. "And maybe we'll let you... Cum like this, or fuck her, or watch me do that. All those things we talked about." Dean took some time to kiss up one side of Sam's inner thigh and down the other. His brother whined again and wiggled his butt into the region of Dean's tongue till he complied. It was crazy! This was an asshole, it wasn't supposed to be sexy but it was because it was Dean's, all Dean's and only Dean's. "Please, Sammy," he begged in turn, not even sure what he was asking for. Muscles starting to lock up, Dean snapped his legs closed and trapped his junk before he lost control.

* * *

The night before, SHE'd met Dean as the ultimate male sex partner. Now, SHE found that his little brother would not be left behind in a comparison. Like Dean had said, Sam tasted sweet, and the need that emanated from each and every single one of his pores and his whole body made HER ache and yearn to be filled by him.

When Dean suggested that Sam fuck HER, SHE moaned around the thick cock in HER mouth. Sam was leaking like crazy, and the thought of his juices mingling with HERS made HER clench and shudder. However, Dean also suggested that _he_ fuck HER, and SHE knew SHE wouldn't be able to make a choice between them. Yet, all three of them needed it badly.

Although SHE could hardly think straight – and who could expect it from HER in the presence of these two gorgeous males – an idea lit up in HER brain. Once SHE'd had the mental image, it wouldn't be denied.

"What," SHE had to let go of Sam's dick in order to speak, but SHE kept giving the head tiny licks between HER words, "if you," _lick,_ "both," _lick,_ "fuck me," _lick,_ "at the same time?"

* * *

"Oh fuck, Sammy, did you hear what she just said?" Dean didn't say 'double-stuffed' out loud for fear of scaring Sam off, but he sure as hell latched onto the lewd term, in his own head. Repeatedly, like a mantra. Dean needed so bad to do that, and to get Sam on board with it. "I've only seen that in porn... that's so fucking sexy." To hook up with one partner and get experimental with them was one thing. Even more exotic adventures like anal or doing it face-to-face against the wall, Dean had checked off his bucket list. That Ellema would let them, no, that she _wanted_ it kicked Dean's libido into overdrive. 

"God, yes!" he hissed, panting and drooling over Sam's hole. His brother's body responded with a complex series of pulsing clenches. "Front or back, Sam? We're gonna be able to feel each other fucking, inside her." Hoping Ellema didn't mind either way, Dean leaned around Sam's hip and spoke to her directly. He almost lost again, seeing his brother being licked, orally teased, by his own recent female lover. Sam's dick rose, veiny and painfully hard, Ellema's tongue swiping at the flared head while she beaded on him as wild-eyed as ever. Based on her position and how her arm was moving, Dean knew she was fingering herself. Not for the first time, he wished that men could have multiple orgasms, too. He had a feeling that once he blew his load this time, it'd be all over, for hours. So they'd better make it good. 

Rising up on his knees, Dean molded himself against Sam's backside. "Your call... Whatever you want." 

* * *

One look at the groaning and twitching Sam told HER that he wasn't going to make a call. SHE smirked at Dean, who obviously knew it, too, and offered, "This one," SHE paused for a second to deep-throat Sam who cried out and shuddered, "won't last. He'll be done as soon as you let go of his balls, but I'm sure he'll recover. Young guys like you two, full of juice and the stamina of hunters, lucky me!"

SHE sucked hard on Sam's tip, making him gasp and squeal, then confirmed, "Yeah, like you said, plenty of juice here. Doesn't change that he'll be boneless in a few seconds, so I suggest I ride him and you get the tighter fit of me from behind."

Dean's eyes glazed over, and SHE laughed, "It looks as if you, too, will soon need a firm squeeze on the family jewels, so I suggest we speed things up. You obviously know what you're doing. I'm assuming you can make him cum without even touching his dick?" Dean didn't speak but his face told HER everything SHE needed to know.

"Do whatever gets him off the hardest and aim it at my ass. That'll be your lube for me." HER hole clenched in lust and anticipation. "I don't need prep," SHE assured Dean. "Actually, I can't wait for you to slowly spear me wide open."

Until now, SHE'd been stroking HERself, but SHE forced HER hand away; otherwise Sam wouldn't be the only one to lose it – and unlike him, SHE didn't have balls that could be pulled down in order to prevent an imminent climax.

"Either we do that or you suggest an alternative, but whatever you want to do, I need you to do it _now!"_

* * *

Ellema's assessments were all dead on. Everything she said made Dean's temperature rise; his body broke out in fresh sweat as if he'd stepped into a Finnish sauna. In unspoken agreement, he wrangled Sam's long, lanky body to a supine position, switching hands to keep his balls from pulling up. By now they felt like lead, the twin glands filling his palm. With all the porn Dean had watched and read, he'd seen the ads, so he knew they made toys to 'help'. If not for them having to forget all this, he'd have invested in some the next chance he had. The hands-on approach might be slightly more fun, though, he had to admit. 

"Okay..." Dean gritted out. He himself knelt between Sam's spread legs, barely keeping himself from simply diving in. As it was, he paused to rub his free hand up Sam's flat abdomen and chest, flicking at his nipple. His skin was as soft as Ellema's, albeit there were a few scars and he displayed the typical young male body hair. Like himself, Sam was damp with perspiration, trembling, the pupils of his eyes blown wide, unfathomable. Like he was chasing the caresses, Sam twisted up at every touch. "Love you, Sam... I'm right here with you."

Dean assumed his brother had heard everything Ellema had said, at least the gist of it if he didn't register every word. "Get on... A couple fingers to his sweet spot while you ride... him'll give us gallons of jizz," Dean pressed out. 

Eagerness shining on her face, Ellema swung a leg over Sam's waist. She knew what to do. He neither stopped nor did anything further to assist, peering over her shoulder to see Sam, whose mouth opened wider as Ellema lowered herself down onto him. Belatedly, Dean slid two fingers into his mouth. They'd need to be sloppy-wet. Even after his extensive tonguing, his brother was still tight. He'd give Ellema a little time – she needed badly to get off, that was obvious. 

* * *

"Ah, don't I wish I could see you doing him," SHE commented as SHE _got on,_ after Dean had laid Sam on his back and spread his legs. The youngster was moaning and thrashing his head while thrusting his hips in a vain effort for friction. Also, Dean kept his balls in a death grip that would make HER cringe if SHE couldn't see, hear, and smell how much being denied from coming upped Sam's lust.

SHE sank down on him and HER eyes widened when his girth stretched HER wide. And he was only fifteen! Immediately, Sam seemed to grow even larger inside HER, and if SHE wasn't sure that Dean would hold Sam back until SHE'd taken the edge off HER own needs, SHE'd have sworn that Sam was about to blow. The sounds he made certainly indicated how close he was, and when SHE began to slide up and down on him, his moans turned to keens and whimpers that made his words almost intelligible, however, the meaning was clear.

If one believed Sam, he was about to die unless Dean released his balls. SHE knew exactly how the boy felt, only SHE had the advantage of being allowed to move freely. It was only a matter of seconds until SHE'd reach the peak, and SHE trusted that Dean could read HER body.

A moment later when Sam wailed and bucked madly, thrusting up so hard into HER that SHE wondered if SHE could even take him any deeper. Apparently, there was a change in plans going on regarding spraying Sam's cum as lube directly onto HER ass, or maybe there'd been a misunderstanding, but it didn't matter as Sam's final uncontrolled stabs made HER plunge into her climax. As HER body began clenching and spasming, Sam howled, and SHE knew that Dean was twisting his fingers inside Sam, pressing against his prostate. SHE felt him thicken impossibly, then he gushed into HER with a force SHE'd never experienced before – not even with Dean although he came very close. Maybe there'd be time later for Dean to rectify his 'shortcoming' – SHE giggled and snorted at that while still coming like a freight train; this was definitely the best sex SHE'd had in ages!

Eventually, Sam went limp under HER and his totally spaced-out eyes stared over HER shoulder at his brother. SHE considered giving them a moment, but Dean's harsh breathing told HER it was unfair to make him wait.

"Our boy will be useless for a minute," SHE suggested to Dean as SHE slid off of Sam, grinning widely at the squelching noises from between their bodies. "Time for you to lube up, and start the next round. Are you ready?"

SHE turned to Dean whose eyes were black with passion. Tweaking his hard nipples, SHE relished his shudders and ran HER hands down his perfect abs and flank, sidestepping his leaking erection until SHE weighed his heavy balls. 

"I'd say these are more than ready for me."

* * *

Body arched up off the bed, Sam screamed and bucked so hard Ellema groaned with the force and depth with which he impaled her. They came so fucking hard! Maybe Dean wasn't an active participant beyond milking Sam's juices from his prostate, but the wave of emotion and lust threatened to bring him over, too. They were gorgeous, climaxing together. Muscles and flesh rippled, and the scent of semen thickened the air till it was hard to breathe. Only by supreme force of will did Dean manage not to blow his load all over Ellema's ass. His nuts burned from all the unshed seed clogging them. 

When it was over, Sam slumped back on the bed like he was half-dead. Dean leaned down and kissed him anyway, whispering what he could, that Sam was beautiful when he came, and always, and Dean loved him. Then the somewhat-patiently waiting Ellema turned to Dean, demanding more, her smaller hands seeking out his more obvious erogenous zones. As if his nipples didn't already sting from being erect for so long, Ellema pinched them. Dean found himself arching and pushing his flushed chest in her direction, and blushed again. To redirect her attention, he cupped her breasts, lifting the plush weight of each. Impatient for his touch, Ellema vibrated under his exploring strokes down her belly and lower. Sam's spunk dripped down the insides of her thighs but Dean didn't mind. Sitting back on his heels, he lifted her up and slid into the heat of her freshly creamed pussy, to 'lube himself up', as she put it. "See? He comes like a garden hose," Dean snorted, stupidly proud. "Got plenty for you, too..." 

Holding on to her and rocking his hips into her rhythm, Dean looked levelly into Ellema's radiant face. Her awareness focused on him now, his body and his cock. "Nnngh! Nngh!" he moaned with each shallow thrust. It felt good, and he pushed a little harder. Ellema seized his unspoken offer to get off on him. She ground down with quick snaps of her hips, around and around. The sheer viscosity was... odd. Sam must have bottomed out and stretched her, Dean decided. It was rare that he didn't – he recalled having had a perfect fit the night before. Actually, he was thankful; it slowed his body's rush. The hotness of having his dick surrounded by Sam's cum, though, was going to melt his last brain cell. 

Ellema's shudders and inner clench signaled her next orgasm. By now she was gasping with effort. Dean held her through it and through the aftershocks, letting her take her pleasure off him. "Now I remember something about 'don't need prep... spear you open'," Dean mimicked, half teasing but dead serious. From the previous night, he recalled her preference of face to face but if he was going in _that_ way and especially if Sam joined in again later, Dean would need to be behind. Lifting her off him, Dean set Ellema on her knees. "On all fours for me, now," he murmured. There was something primal about doing it that way. If Ellema was as old as she claimed to be, she ought to understand the base instinct. 

When she moved into position, Dean paused a moment to gather more of his brother's offering, drawing the slickness of it back over Ellema's tightly furled rear entrance. No prep? It was going to hurt! He wouldn't _not_ ease the way a little. Sam might be fractionally longer but Dean wasn't small either, and he knew that when he got close the base of it swelled to the thickness of his wrist. Partially ignoring her orders, Dean wiggled in his first finger and then the middle one. Her experience showed – Ellema relaxed and let him in easily, much more-so than Sam or anyone he'd ever done this with had. From some deeply buried compartmentalized place, Dean took a lesson or two on how to push into the invasion, which muscles needed to go lax and how to manage it. He even admired her courage. Prepping Sam he'd done out of love, in painstaking little increments. With Ellema, it was sex and lust, nothing wrong with that, just different. 

No, nothing wrong at all, because now he wanted to fuck that tiny hole and slide around in Sam's cum again. He reached into Ellema and scooped some out, slathering it on himself. His body was already jostling into position, the tip of him red and wet like Sam had been earlier. Dean looked over at Sam, dick in hand, eyebrows arched up. "Gotta do it," he got out, voice strained and hoarse. "Need it..." 

* * *

"Yeah," SHE gasped when Dean announced he'd go in. Still shuddering with aftershocks from HER third climax in a row, SHE was nevertheless ready for him. Over the centuries, SHE'd learned to take as much as SHE could when good things were available. Sam and Dean were at the top of HER scale, and SHE'd had far from enough of them yet. As part of the learning process, HER body had become proficient in accommodating for what HER lovers had to give, and that included the ability to take a man of Dean's girth, front or rear, without hurting. Then again, both HER and Dean's need was so sharp that SHE'd have ignored the pain for the lust that came with it.

Still, a most considerate lover, Dean managed to go slowly regardless of the strain SHE detected in his voice. Feeling his flared crown pushing HER wider and wider made HER rock backwards until the ridge slipped behind the tight sphincter and made HER keen. "Oh yes, Baby, so good, so big, need you so much, want you all the way in me!" SHE clenched in happy anticipation and gave HERself over to Dean.

* * *

Sam could barely keep his eyes open when his body went slack from coming hard, but he clearly heard Dean and Ellema discussing 'getting it on.' His dick twitched at the prospect of joining, but apparently even he needed a minute after – how often had he come today? He was still trying to figure it out when the bed shifted next to him, and then he had the opposite problem of only a second ago: his eyes were wide as saucers as he watched Ellema get on hands and knees and Dean leaned over her.

Dean's strangled groans as he slowly penetrated her succeeded in Sam going from zero to sixty in less than three seconds. Not long ago, _he'd_ been the one under Dean, albeit in another position, and his moans now joined his brother's in empathy. The need to have his hole loved was so strong it would hurt if it wasn't fulfilled soon, but on the other hand, he wouldn't, couldn't, miss watching Dean get off in Ellema's ass.

Torn between wanting to watch and wanting to take her place, Sam knelt up and crawled behind Dean. He, too, was kneeling, legs pushed as wide as he could, and Sam saw not only the heavy balls swinging with each thrust but also the forbidden pucker that had made his brother totally lose it when Sam had licked him there. Suddenly, he yearned to show Dean how wonderful it felt to be filled like that, and to shoot his cream deep inside, but his instinct told him that would likely be the irrevocable end of any physical contact Dean would allow. Ever.

Still, maybe in the throes of ecstasy, Dean would permit Sam to love him with his tongue...

"Dean," Sam whispered as he moved closer and nipped at his brother's ear – which may be considered a cheap trick, but as the saying went, all was fair in love and war. "Dean, I wanna lick you. May I please lick you?"

* * *

Nothing in Sam's face or bearing protested Dean's plunging in. Ellema squealed. As she opened up around him, took him inside in a long slow slide to the hilt. Dean's eyes rolled back and, unable to restrain himself, he held tight to Ellema's narrow waist and pumped in and out of her ass, totally gone. He'd waited through the long lead-up, watched Sam have sex with their third, added his fingers to boost his brother's climax, let Ellema cum on his dick because she needed it... And now it was his fucking turn. He let loose and fucked that tight, willing hole. Guilt that he wished it was Sam was beyond him, but he kept his comments to himself. 

As for Sam, he lay there stoned on his afterglow for a couple minutes. But then he rose, slanted eyes full of lust and determination, crawling across the sheets to kneel behind Dean. The hairs rose on Dean's arms and the back of his neck, feeling a dick near his ass. But it was Sam and he trusted him; when teeth and hot breath attacked Dean's earlobe, he was beyond caring.

He should've known what Sam would ask for: the thing that had begun the process of tearing their physical relationship apart. Dean started to protest but before more than a disgruntled sound left him, his body decided for him. Pushing Ellema down further, Dean bent over her, a hand on each side of her rib cage on the mattress. He couldn't speak to say yes, but he bowed his head down over Ellema's shoulders and slowed his thrusts, exaggerated them so that his ass pushed up into the air every time he pulled back. Dean cut his watering eyes at his brother and gave a short, jerky nod. 

And it came, fingers to hold his cheeks apart and then the wet, stroking tongue that was anything but shy. A deep groan punched out of Dean. His hips rocked between Ellema's ass and Sam's mouth. Totally overwrought with sensation, such incredible sensations so that it was like he'd grown a new set of phallic nerves around his rim for Sam to play with, Dean bunched the muscles in his thighs and pelvic floor, trying not to cum, not yet. "Saaaammmm..." He finally screeched in desperation. "I can't... Fuck! I'm gonna...!" His poor leaden balls decided they wanted back inside his body and Dean couldn't get there fast enough. 

* * *

SHE knew that women could in theory cum from anal sex, but it had never happened to HER. _Yet._ Dean's girth stretched HER to the point where the slide of his cock made HER skin cling to it and thus provide the most mind-blowing stimulation of the sensitive nerves encircling HER hole. 

Turned on beyond belief, SHE almost missed when Sam joined them but for the sudden change in Dean's sounds and the deep shudders wracking his body. SHE wasn't sure what Sam was doing to his brother, but Dean slowed down his crazy pace and thrust even deeper than before, then pulled out until SHE felt a delicious pull when HER rim caught on the flared ridge of his dick, which she could also feel pulsing against HER.

Dean moaned like an animal that seriously needed to be put down, and SHE took the cue. Pressing back against him, SHE invited him to use HER hole, to fuck and ream HER until he completely lost himself between HER and Sam. At the same time, SHE felt the lust in HER body increase exponentially as Dean's body took over and his thrusts became irregular and uncoordinated. Only a matter of seconds now, _now, NOW..._

SHE exploded in glorious ecstasy.

* * *

Not sure what he would have done if Dean had denied him, Sam dove in at his brother's jerky nod. His dick surged and released a trickle of liquid lust when he realized that Dean was too far gone to speak. Oh yes, he wanted _in there,_ but it wouldn't happen, not today and probably not ever, but licking Dean out was as good as Sam imagined fucking him would feel like.

Love and desire coursed through him as he spread Dean's cheeks wide with his hands and licked a broad stripe over the exposed cleft. The pink opening was clenched so tightly that Sam wondered if it didn't hurt, and he vowed to himself that when he was done, Dean would be wet and open, begging for his tongue. Once Dean had reached that point, Sam would give him more than just a tongue; he'd slip a finger inside and play with his inner pleasure center until Dean shot dry. Sam nearly swooned at the thought, but the determination to get his brother there made him focus and continue.

Kitten licks avoiding the tempting center, Sam teased his brother's rim, alternating with long tongue strokes that made treacly fluid flow freely from his slit when he felt and tasted the shy and scared little pucker contracting under his loving touches. Dean's moans became louder and more insistent as he pushed Ellema down to fuck her first slow and deep, then his thrusts turned sharper and faster again.

With Dean's arousal clearly in charge over his mind, Sam grew bolder. He spread the quivering cheeks as wide as he could, then brought his lips down over the wildly fluttering hole and sucked on it. Dean screeched out Sam's name, and Sam though he was ready for the next step now.

"I know you want more, Dean, and I'm gonna give you more," he announced and slowly wiggled his tongue tip through the wildly clenching entrance. "Just another second, love, and you'll have my finger," Sam soothed and pressed his index finger inside the incredible heat. He wasn't quite sure how to find his goal, but when his fingertip found something spongy and Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, he knew he'd found it.

* * *

Dean didn't know if he could stand much more. And he didn't want to stop, not ever, not even when the tense little brushes of Sam's tongue turned to prods, then slides. Dean felt himself being invaded by something a lot longer and firmer than a tongue. It was just Sam's finger, which he'd have pulled away from, only he couldn't do it. His brother's aim was true. In deep denial over how much he loved the shocky thunderbolts erupting from inside, Dean went wild. Every time he tried to get away, another stroke of the pad of Sam's finger across his pleasure gland drove him totally insane. 

Before he even came, Dean was gushing. Sam pushed little squirts of fluid from his prostate, plus he was dripping pre-cum, not that it made much difference with Sam's load all around him. All Dean comprehended, mindless and howling, sobbing, was that he hung on to the woman under him, he fucked, he spread his legs and his ass for his brother and _got_ fucked. "Pleeeeease, Sssssssaa..." The pressure exploded. Dean convulsed with the incredible pain and release of it; he wasn't even thrusting anymore, just shaking and jerking while his dick spewed on and on, every drop of semen from his balls flying out. He filled Ellema full, and more. Cream started to back up, smearing into his public curls. 

After lessening spurts and dribbles, his balls were empty. Bone dry, dust. But Dean, somehow, wasn't done. By now he was draped over Ellema like a 170-pound blanket. Sam was... milking him, was the only term he could think of. Closing his eyes, Dean buried his face in Ellema's silky long hair. It felt like he might pee, or cum again, but how could he? Still, traces of fluid came from his slit, like syrup it was so thick, he was sure. "Sam... Stop!" he finally managed. "Or do me." He'd already allowed a tongue and a finger. In two days, they wouldn't remember any of this. It wasn't like Dean had never taken a dick. He could give that... give himself. 

* * *

Sam's eyes bulged. At first, he was sure he must have heard wrong, and the more he replayed Dean's words in his mind, the more he came to the conclusion that he must be dreaming. However, this was way too intense and real to be a dream: from the bitter taste on his tongue and the overpowering scent of male and female pheromones and semen to the sweat that clung to his, Dean's, and Ellema's skin, everything was screaming at Sam that this was, indeed, happening.

Still, Dean had given him a choice: _'Stop! Or do me.'_ Was it a choice, though? Sam wondered if Dean really wanted to 'be done.' His brain was torn between the knowledge that Dean in his usual state of mind would refuse to let Sam even touch his hole. That Dean had lost it to the point of accepting a tongue and finger was more than Sam had expected even in the sanctuary that was Ellema's home. On the other hand, Sam's dick insisted that since Dean had offered, Sam should jump at the chance as this would be the one and only time ever that this could happen.

He bit his lip and tried to clear his mind.

* * *

Something weird, maybe even wrong, was going on. Sam was surprised by Dean's words after cumming into HER. SHE didn't know either of them well, but it appeared that Dean asking to be fucked was way out there, and Sam didn't know how to react. 

Still buried in HER, Dean was groaning and twitching. He wouldn't like what SHE had to do next, but it couldn't be helped. As quickly and gently as SHE could, SHE wiggled out from under him and kissed his cheek when he collapsed on the mattress as if his bones had turned into jelly.

"I'll give you two a moment," SHE announced and slid off the bed, then left the room. As SHE closed the door behind HERself, SHE could hear Sam's voice, tentatively asking, "Dean, I... I'd love to... Are you sure you want me...?"

* * *

Still dazed, Dean didn't manage more than a whisper of her name when Ellema nudged, pushed, and squirmed her way out from under him. It seemed a little unfair she should be kicked out of her own bedroom, even though it was her decision. If karma was a real force in the universe, then someday soon she would find someone devoted to her in every way, who'd give her a child and remain at her side her until her natural death. Dean sincerely wished that for her. She deserved it, and more.

Now flat on his belly, Dean shifted his attention to Sam's pressing, stuttered questions. The urgency of two minutes ago was gone, for Dean, who tried to get his mind around his own response. It was one thing that Sam's asshole and prostate were so incredibly sensitive. It didn't make him 'less of a man'. But Dean had boxed off his corresponding parts as not anything remotely related to pleasure... because other than at Sam's doing, they'd never been. He didn't touch himself there. Even the time he came from being fucked by those Jersey brothers, it wasn't sexy for him, just a bodily function brought on by physical stimuli. But holy crap, if he could just... let go of his issues, leave it in the past, his little brother's love and his dick could potentially make Dean cum harder than he could even imagine. The acceptance of Sam inside him would represent the final fulfillment of their relationship...

...which they wouldn't remember. Rolling to his side with a grimace for the sticky, glue-y whitish fluids all over his groin and upper thighs, which he wiped at somewhat effectually with a corner of the top sheet, Dean took in Sam's eagerness. Valid disbelief combined with lust, something akin to childlike wonder with the love of a partner who knew him better than anyone. All that – from Sam – was all Dean needed to confirm. Well, and the circumstances – that had a lot to do with it. His brother knelt on the bed next to him, panting and hard again. Dean had to smile – a little enviously – at the nil refractory period. He couldn't deny Sam the experience that every tense line of his body clearly stated he wanted. "Yes I want you. Everything..." 

Feeling a little shy himself – ridiculous after all the recent events including Sam using his mouth on... Jesus, he'd really managed to get past that one unshakable inhibition. Dean blushed and let his lashes shield his eyes. His cock lay limp, exhausted, pointed vaguely to the right. From day one, Sam had preferred his sex-type play face-to-face; with that in mind, Dean reclined onto his back a little more. Raised his knees. Even if Sam had reservations, Dean doubted he'd be able to resist the invitation of his hole. "You'd better find some better lube first, though," he joked weakly. 

* * *

Still not sure what to think, much less what to do, Sam stretched out next to Dean. "I love you," he said and kissed his brother's lips. "I'll find us lube, but first..." He kissed Dean again. "There's something I need to say."

Sam moved as close to Dean as he could get. "I've always been jealous when you went out to... to find a girl. But this time... Ellema's different. Watching you getting off in her was..." He shook his head. "I know we have to forget, but I wish I could keep that memory." He sighed.

"So, um, when you were with her last night... Do you think there's anything here that we can use as lube or should I go fetch ours from downstairs?"

* * *

Dean let himself be drawn into Sam's kisses, despite the initial taste and smell. He'd foisted the same thing on Sam so many times after licking him out that neither of them considered it anything but normal, in the reverse. His brother pressed against him full-length. With every shift, Dean drank in the various textures: soft skin, wiry pubes, slick tongue, a sharp hipbone and the flex of Sam's firm musculature. They held on to each other tight, Sam's hard-on nestled between their bellies, like nothing and no one else in the world mattered. 

That Sam was jealous of his hook-ups had never been a secret. Even before they'd ever touched each other, which as far as Dean knew started the night of Sam's first wet dream, Sam got all sulky when Dean left him alone to chase tail. It took him a long time to see that it went beyond just unhappiness that his big brother would choose to spend time elsewhere. "I know, and if I never say it again, I'm sorry. For hurting you. For not having more control, maybe." The idea of exclusivity had been foreign, until one day about a year into their relationship Dean realized that the only other times he was hooking up was when Dad needed money, and that wasn't by choice or for pleasure. 

"Ellema's... not the usual. Not just because she is what she is. With most chicks, it's some drinks, some flirting, maybe some making out, once or twice around the bed and I'm gone ten minutes later. I... Not because I love you less, because I love you more now having done the things we did together, I wished I could stay here. With her. She's... more. Maybe we should be wary of that, I dunno. But... You felt something, too, with Nicole. Right? So you understand." Hopefully. Maybe he shouldn't have brought that up, but his intense curiosity hadn't been satisfied. Sam had been too pissed off at him to disclose even one word about that encounter. 

"Check that little drawer, there. Most girls have a naughty drawer," he winked. The bedside tables were the most likely place to stash lube, and if not he'd rifle through the other cabinets. Letting go of Sam so he could move, Dean stretched like a cat in a sunbeam. 

* * *

When Dean let go of him so he could check the appointed drawer, Sam turned away to comply, but then Dean stretched, and Sam couldn't resist: moving back toward his brother, he licked over a perky nipple and suckled gently.

Yes, he was hard and needy despite having found deeply satisfying release several times, and the prospect of melting into Dean's body turned him on to no end. But he also felt unhurried. Ellema's place was a sanctuary and they had time. Sam decided to make the best out of it. That Dean wanted him in this most intimate way was still surprising him and he'd make sure that Dean had every chance to change his mind while Sam prepared him lovingly.

"I, um," he began, suddenly a little shy again. "Uh, yes, I know one isn't supposed to talk about sex with others when in bed with someone else, but, well, maybe you'll feel a bit more comfortable knowing that I've actually done this before..."

* * *

"Mmmmm yeah," Dean moaned softly when Sam leaned down to lick one of his nipples. They'd gone flat, soft and pale pink in his afterglow. The wet caress felt more affectionate than arousing, although that in itself sent a warm wave through him. The tiny center poked up to meet the slight palpation. Sam's pace had slowed. As much as Dean loved him urgent and in need of his older brother's hands and guidance in the art of restraint, the show of care to him now made for an exciting change. When Sam twisted around to search for lube, Dean ran a hand down his back and buttcheeks. God, he loved touching him.

"It's okay. Since when do we do normal?" Dean asked lazily; Sam had to know it was a hypothetical question. "It's not really considered good manners, I guess. But people do it more often than you might think, and I asked you so... tell me all about what you did. Please." He smiled, anticipating whatever he was about to hear. Nicole was one of a kind; he was sure she'd taken incredibly good care of Sam and that Sam had more than risen to the occasion. The fact that he'd been with her at all indicated he cared; Sam had been adamant that he'd never sleep with someone he didn't love. Even Dean at his sluttiest had to admit it was more fulfilling with someone special.

* * *

Sam found not only a tube of lubricant in Ellema's drawer but also a few sex toys, which he decided not to mention for now. Although he was sure that she'd be okay with that, he didn't want to intrude on her privacy any further, and he knew that Dean would respect that.

The atmosphere in the room had changed. Where they'd been urgent and needy only moments before, Sam now felt warmth of a non-physical type spread through his body to his heart. Only being close and at peace with Dean could ever make him feel like that, and he smiled as he stretched out along his brother again.

"I know you wanted to ask me about that night before," Sam began haltingly, "but I was so mad at you. Nicole... she's special. I hated you for pushing me at her and then even more when you expected her to sleep with me. I thought she was your girlfriend and... It creeped me out. It's ironic, really, because me being mad at you led to me getting closer to her."

He met Dean's eyes. "I'm still not sure I understand what kind of relationship you two had, but I hope that you can one day return to her. And I wish we could explain to her why we're so... screwed up, what with our life and all. She deserves honesty."

Nuzzling his nose against Dean's neck, Sam continued. "I really like her and in another reality I think I could even love her. She taught me how to, um, make a girl happy," he squirmed a little, "and after we'd had some... fun... she let me..." he swallowed and continued in a whispering voice, "you know, be in her, from behind." 

Sam's cheeks turned beet red. "She... she knew I was thinking of you when... I loved her like that."

* * *

Ah, Sam was so sweet, so open despite struggling to find words that weren't graphic. His closeness, physically and emotionally, was something Dean rarely allowed at once. Showing vulnerability was death to a hunter. Swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat, Dean tried to address the last month of bottled up misery, anger, and secrecy. "It's okay. She's not my girlfriend, but she's the only girl I ever went back to. I've known her, hm, about three years. We had an understanding, for when I was around Sioux Falls. Before your birthday, it had been nearly a year since... you know. It wasn't that I expected her to sleep with you, exactly. I had no right; it was an asshole move, except it was more like, she was the best, most intuitive person – woman – I'd ever met to... teach you. To be what you needed. I wanted your experience to be as positive as possible. Sounds like I picked right." 

The confession that Sam had been wishing for Dean as he took Nicole – like that – was almost too much. So were the workings of his imagination, what that must've looked like, sounded like, felt like for each of them. Hoarsely, Dean husked out, "I'm glad she let you... That she was there for you. She's brave. Dunno whether to apologize or congratulate you." He leaned in to kiss Sam again and thread his fingers into the long strands of his hair. "I wish it had been me. Wanna make that up to you now, while we can." Though his heart was beginning to pound with nerves, Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's erection. "You've grown. I, uh, what you did earlier when I was inside Ellema... Do you think you could do that again, a little?"

* * *

Sam listened and nodded. Deep inside, he'd always known that Dean had brought him to Nicole because he wanted him to not only to have a good first time with a girl but because she was a kind and caring person. In hindsight, he could appreciate that. The fact that he and Nicole had spent a wonderful night – and he knew that she had enjoyed it a lot, too – made him feel less guilty, but he hadn't been able to think about that night and the days thereafter without his rage burning up again. That was over now and he agreed that Dean had made a good choice with her.

Then, Dean asked him to repeat what he'd done earlier and Sam's heart beat as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. Dean admitting that he wanted Sam to make love to his back entrance, that he trusted Sam to touch him where he was the most sensitive and vulnerable, brought tears to his eyes. He wasn't sure why Dean had been so spiteful after Sam had done it for the first time. Maybe it didn't fit the tough guy picture his brother had of himself, but everything had changed since they'd come to Ellema's place. Even now, Dean didn't refer to the act in words, and Sam felt as if he'd been offered the holy grail, or their version of it.

"Are you kidding me?" he burst out. "I can't think of anything I want to do more than that. Not even... you know." Now it was Sam's turn to not be able to refer to actual penetration in words: what was for him the most intimate and closest two lovers could become sounded so vulgar! 

"I love the way my tongue makes you feel," he continued while gently spreading Dean's legs and kneeling between them. "And that makes me feel... I can't even put it into words, fancy that," Sam commented dryly.

He beamed at his brother. "But I can show you..." He laid on his front, leaned down, and licked along Dean's erection, flicking his tongue under the ridge where an interminable amount of nerves converged. Dean groaned and Sam thought he could sense his brother's toes curling. 

"I think I'mma continue this for a while," Sam announced. "That okay with you?"

* * *

"More than okay," Dean groaned, feeling tiny but firm licks to the underside of his cockhead, just under the frenulum. Each swipe of Sam's tongue shocked his nerves, like power lines in a summer storm. How could he even be hard again? Having Sam between his legs was the definition of strange but his trust in his brother was so implicit Dean spread his thighs wider, offering himself, all of himself. After all the discussion of the women they'd met and had, what they deserved, the point of what Sam deserved remained unmentioned. Dean felt like he owed him an explanation, but he just couldn't burden Sam. That was also his gift, he decided. 

"Your mouth's too busy to talk right now, anyway," he chuckled, the low sound pitching up as Sam traced a line down his dick, the seam where his sac came together, and further. Besides wet mouth and hot breath, and those keen eyes watching every move, Sam was all hands with him again, mostly over his hips and legs, giving Dean the tactile love he needed so much it overrode everything else in his life sometimes. "It's... It's, I dunno. It's awesome how much you like, uh, back door play. Every time you cum from that, it blows my mind... fucking turns me on... Oh!" A punched-out little gasp, totally unmanly, escaped Dean the second Sam got near his rim again. And yet, he arched his back and tightened every muscle in his legs and pelvis to keep from flinching away, because he already knew it would take him apart till he totally lost all sense. Dean couldn't prevent how he was quivering like he was freezing or piss-scared, his hole included. "Please, Sammy, just do it!" 

* * *

Dean begging him to 'do it' was the final straw for Sam. He squirmed on the silk sheets that were already moist from their earlier playing, but with the amount he was leaking now, they were practically soaked.

"Want you so much," Sam moaned. That Dean needed him to the point of begging sent an emotional surge through Sam that almost made him cry. As he carefully licked down his brother's taint until he reached the hidden entrance, he was hit by the thought that he wanted to lick Dean and at the same time hold him, feel him shudder and shake when he came apart. It wasn't anatomically possible, of course, but he wondered briefly if, maybe later, Dean would let Ellema lick him while Sam held him. Maybe she could even do it while Dean was inside Sam...

Dean's soft moans yanked him back to the present and he began to circle the pulsing hole with tiny licks. Spreading his brother's cheeks with his hands for better access, he kissed the pink little pucker, alternating with licking. Dean shivered and groaned as his hole seemed to take on its own life, quivering under Sam's tongue and lips.

"I think it likes me," Sam commented with a smile. He blew on the exposed opening and it tightened. "And I definitely love it."

* * *

Sam... Loved it? No one had ever wanted anything to do with that part of him besides to use it. Dean threw an arm over his eyes, unable to keep tears back. "Loves you too... Mmm-mph!!" The tip of the inquisitive tongue mapped out every feature – Dean doubted anyone had ever paid such detail attention to any part of him. 

The tickling tease went on forever while he whined and writhed against the sheet, pulling his legs up eventually and shoving his ass down awkwardly. It was like thrusting in reverse; he couldn't seem to get the motion right. Dean was long familiar with every hot spot of his dick; his hole was proving nearly as sensitive and the newness of the feeling gave him a forbidden rush, like when he was eleven, and had popped his first real boner – he remembered the difference and how the endorphins flooded his body as he played with the stiff flesh, the rising, tightening of his balls signaling an end like nothing he'd ever felt before. His rim didn't transform, and currently his erection remained rigid on his stomach with a droplet or two of pre-cum seeping out in response to the plethora of sensation from Sam's tastebuds skimming the tiny wrinkles. 

Then Sam... Kissed it! Sucked along the edges, and there was his tongue-tip again, slyly wiggling it's way into the tightly closed center. Yeah, he'd had a finger up there before but that wasn't much. Overcome by what he somehow just knew it would feel like with Sam inside him, not pain – well maybe some at first – but with his hot, living, slicked-up, needy cock up there to rub all over Dean's sweet spot and make him erupt and cream and then press more of that other stuff from him, he moaned, "Sam... You gotta... you gotta... Be in me... pleeease! Want you!"

* * *

"Yeah," Sam replied, his voice gone hoarse with desire. "I'm... gonna be in you," he swallowed, "but you... _we_ have to be patient. I'm not going to hurt you and... like you said... I've... grown..."

Dean had always impressed on him that cock size was important to score with girls, and Sam had waved him off: he wasn't interested in girls. Then, with Nicole, he'd been apprehensive of hurting her with his girth. Now with Dean, it was even worse. At least Sam hadn't been Nicole's first – maybe Dean had been her first with anal sex, but as much as he wanted to know, Sam wasn't going to ask. That was a private matter between Dean and Nicole. However, since Nicole was a woman, she couldn't have reciprocated. Or maybe she could have – using a strap-on like girls did sometimes in skin mags – but given the sporadic meetings between her and Dean, Sam doubted it. So his brother had likely never had anything up his ass other than Sam's finger a few minutes ago.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sam repeated. "That means it'll be a little while yet till I've... opened you up." He grinned. "Remember how I begged earlier? If I'm doing it right, in a minute you'll know how that felt."

He opened the tube and slicked two fingers with lubricant. "Giving you a finger," Sam announced as he circled Dean's clenching hole with his index finger, "now."

* * *

"Yeah, Sam, give me the finger," Dean snorted. "That's some thanks I get for–ohmygawd!" he cried out. His body fought the invasion even though he'd thought he was ready – uselessly, because Sam's finger was thin and slippery with extra lube and it entered through the tight clench, in and in till his knuckles brushed the lower curves of Dean's butt. Sweat broke out on him again; he panted like a woman in labor, trying to relax before he gave himself a cramp in a very uncomfortable place. 

"Gimme a minute," Dean groaned. "I know you won't hurt me. Wanna take you in easy..." He willed the stubborn ring muscle to soften, flushed from hairline to nipples at the intricate flutters and twitches his backside performed, trying to give in voluntarily. Sam had to think something was physically wrong with him, like his hole had developed a tic, and maybe it had. "You... You did this so good for me, letting me open you up. I... don't know how to, to..." Dean couldn't vocalize what he meant, but he had a feeling Sam knew. 

A second finger joined the first in another irrefutable stretch and he wailed, wordless and strained. It burned a little, but more than that, the pressure on his insides felt good. Cautiously Dean circled his hips, and again. When he looked down again, he saw his balls bouncing in Sam's face, not exactly pretty but then his brother had always liked them. "'K, it's better now. Love how you do it," he whispered. For him to praise Sam's technique at a time like this as if they were only brothers and this wasn't sex would be too weird, so Dean kept the variations of, "Good job, Sam" inside his head. Instead, he nodded and pushed down on Sam's hand. 

Now he was eager to get the rest of the prep done. "Gimme another, need you, all of you. Feel that?" Deliberately, Dean flexed and relaxed his sphincter around Sam's fingers. It got easier every time he did it. "That's gonna be around you, when you come inside me." He could feel his upper lip curl with lust, same for his toes; his nipples stood up in tiny pink nubs. Low in his pelvis was a heavy, dragging feeling, kind of like his testicles when he went too long without cleaning the pipes. This new neediness, was that what Sam felt? No wonder he wanted to get fucked – to be made love to – if that was the way to release it. 

* * *

"Not that finger, you jerk," Sam echoed Dean's snort. Before he could say more, he was caught by surprise by his brother's reaction. OK, maybe it wasn't surprise as much as awe; he'd had a finger inside Dean just a few minutes before, but the intensity of the reaction was just...

What? Oh, Dean needed a minute. Listening to Dean, Sam was reassured that the vise-like clamp around his finger was apparently due to tension. Although he'd loved the tight grip of Nicole's body, he wasn't sure if Dean's clench wouldn't actually strangle his dick and cut off the blood supply.

That thought was perfectly suited to help Sam's patience as he waited for Dean to adjust to the intruding finger. Even his erection flagged a little. And speaking of erections... Sam considered distracting Dean by licking his dick, kissing up and down the thick shaft, suckling on the tip, but Dean really seemed to need to be left alone for a moment.

It didn't last long, though. When the clasp around his finger softened and Dean's body and face relaxed, Sam carefully slid a second finger in. Again, his brother tensed and wailed, but this time, he relaxed almost immediately. A few seconds later, he even circled his hips and told Sam he loved it – no, he loved how Sam did it, but Sam was by now so turned on again that even his analyzing brain didn't insist on focusing on the difference.

Yet another few seconds later, Dean asked for, no, demanded, more. He flexed around Sam, which, again, made the younger brother's eyes water. "Fuck, yeah," Sam whispered hoarsely, "and I can't wait to feel that when I'm fully in you. And then I'mma come inside you while you shoot your balls dry for me."

From his position on his belly between Dean's legs, Sam could see how his brother's nipples stood, hard and tight, and he wanted to lick and bite them, but of course he couldn't reach them with his mouth. There were still his hands, though. "Here comes another," he warned Dean as he poured more lubricant on his fingers. The first two were still inside Dean's body but he stilled the slow fucking motions while he applied the slippery substance. 

Dean tensed and gasped when he was breached by Sam's ring finger, and it took him longer to relax than with the first two. Sam knew that now the 'real' stretching began and that the prospect of playing with Dean's nipples was not only making his mouth water but it would also serve to take Dean's mind off what had to be discomfort if not pain.

He brought his free hand up to his brother's chest and gave the first stiff nub a sharp pinch. "I love these," he announced. Alternating between featherlight stroking and tightly rolling the buds, he began to carefully scissor his fingers inside Dean's body. "I need to do this to make you ready for me," Sam explained softly, "and I need you to tell me if you need a break."

* * *

Eyes widening at the added burn when Sam got his third digit painstakingly and squelching with lube inside, Dean groaned and went back to panting. Yeah, Sam's dick was still twice the circumference of three fingers, but he just wanted it over with, this 'opening' business. He already felt wide open back there, and it freaked him out, no matter how necessary, or how fucking hot being stuffed full of any part of Sam. His little brother, who'd been Dean's charge his whole life, took charge now – yes by permission, but that too stretched Dean in ways that couldn't be measured. Sam could see everything, hear it, smell it, Jesus! With anyone else, Dean would've been embarrassed, just one more emotion he didn't _do_. 

A stinging pinch to one of his nipples, then the other with Sam feeling up the flat muscles in his chest provided momentary distraction. Dean had gone through the same motions on Sam, and to women before, so what his brother was methodically performing on him now was no mystery: spreading his fingers apart imitating scissors, making a cone of them, widening the base, insinuating his pinkie. He couldn't take another second of it! Another deep groan punched out of his gut with Sam's next push into him; he touched that hidden spot, sending bolts of molten pleasure to Dean's extremities. By now, his belly was wet with tiny spurts of his own natural slick. He slapped a hand down between his legs to hold his balls down. No, he wasn't in any real danger yet, but it just felt more secure. 

"Enough, Sam! Put your dick in me now or I'll flip over and rub off on these sheets!" Dean demanded. The whiny edge in his voice reminded him of someone else's bratty self, and he quietly wigged out all over again at the role reversal. For Sam, this was one small part of his growing up, Dean told himself again, and no way was he not going to be party to it. 

* * *

Sam's dick spit another string of drool when Dean told him it was enough prepping and ordered him to 'put his dick in now,' but he wasn't convinced that Dean was ready yet. Was it another attempt of his brother to maintain his manly image? Sam didn't know. Clearly, Dean wanted 'it' now, needed 'it' now, and Sam decided to oblige – or was it his downstairs brain that made the decision? He couldn't tell – but he kept in mind that Dean's body may be more vulnerable than his brother thought it was.

Sam sighed, cross-eyed with lust, when he came up and saw the rapture on Dean's face. "Do you have any idea what it does to me when you beg for my dick?" he asked. It was obviously not a question that needed an answer; if he knew his brother, a snort was all he'd get. 

"I'mma do it," Sam said. "Now." He made sure his erection was dripping with lube, then lined up. As with Nicole, he found it hard – and immediately discarded the bad pun – to push inside. With her, he'd asked for her help, but with Dean, Sam had a sense that this was already a very fragile situation, and that a single wrong word could put an immediate end to it. 

"Trust me," he said softly as he took his dick in hand and steered it firmly toward Dean's opening. Pressing gently, he frowned when nothing happened; the tiny hole wasn't admitting him. 

"Dean," Sam said, "I know you trust me and love me. I need your body to trust me, too, and I'll wait until you're ready, however long it may take. Try and relax, and meanwhile..." 

He was stretched out on top of Dean, wedged between his brother's thighs. Trying to ignore the angry throbbing of his erection against Dean's scared entrance, Sam bent down to kiss Dean's lips. 

"Let me in, love," he murmured as Dean's mouth opened and their tongues met.

* * *

Right there, Sam was right there now: on top of him, ready to breach him... So why didn't he? Dean had watched like a hawk, seen how he'd coated himself in a more than generous layer of slick, seen the way Sam's red-purple erection jumped at his own touch. Now the flared bare head of it poised at Dean's entrance. Sam tried to push in. His hips began their thrust. Stalled. As much as he wanted to and tried to accept the width, Dean couldn't take him yet. The blunt, so-hard intrusion went nowhere. 

Sam tensed, but he didn't force, and Dean's mind reeled upon the repeated realization that no one was going to make him do this. Instead, Sam pleaded with Dean in whispers to trust him and to let him in. From personal experience, he knew exactly what Sam was feeling; the things his brother mouthed into his skin at the cusp of the very act of taking him nearly made Dean spill. "I do... trust you. Want you... C'mon." Be damned if Dean was going to turn chicken now. He raised his legs higher and locked his ankles over the swell of Sam's ass. They fit perfect, bowlegs included, except for one thing which he was going to fix right now. 

Bracing himself while trying to keep loose where it mattered, Dean gave himself over to Sam's kiss. Their tongues entwined first in Dean's mouth then Sam's; lips slanted this way and the other with soft smacks and slurps. This was nothing like the bad soundtrack noises of low-budget film and porn. In real life, he relished the audible evidence of making out. 

Something finally clicked in Dean's mind or a barrier went down, something. Pulling with his legs, Dean started to drag Sam into him. With his arms and hands, too, he caressed and massaged the strong, wiry muscles of Sam's back and shoulders, coaxing him to movement. How Sam waited, without getting impatient or losing control, Dean didn't have a clue; he doubted he'd been anywhere near that self-controlled at fifteen, even with a year's worth of experience with girls to his name. "Gotta Sam... Give me everything, show me how you love me." Greedy-sounding or not, Dean needed that, too. 

The pressure maxed out and his hole finally got the message, allowing inward movement. "Ohmygodsammy," Dean moaned at the slick penetration. Just the head so far and he wasn't ready to say if it was great or horrible or both. "Need you so bad, all of you." He pulled again with his legs. His brother's thick shaft split him open, more and still more, carving into the deepest parts of him. Hot and hard and slick, Sam fucked into him till his balls rested on Dean's upturned ass. He couldn't help the cry that escaped his wide-open, snarling mouth at the fullness and burn as his ring muscle spasmed around Sam's dick. "Need a sec," he panted. 

* * *

Although Dean didn't say it, Sam sensed that his brother was trying to force himself open. Instead of pushing, however, Sam deepened the kiss; his plea for Dean to let him in hadn't been restricted to the back entrance, and Dean opened his mouth eagerly. Sam licked into Dean's mouth, traced his teeth and palate, sucked on his tongue. 

The sounds alone were almost enough to make him cum and it took all his willpower to refrain from thrusting, and then the incredible happened: Dean, who'd already wrapped his legs around Sam pulled him in and relaxed, so that Sam's crown slid into the scorching heat almost without any resistance! He growled, moaned, and keened at the same time, trying to keep still and allow his brother time to adjust, but Dean continued pulling him in, told him he needed all of Sam, and there was no way to resist that.

Another string of hoarse cries tore loose from his mouth as he bottomed out. His balls slapped against Dean's body and Dean spasmed around him. It felt like being hit on the solar plexus, only in a good sense: Sam couldn't breathe any longer and his vision grayed out. He wanted to thrust, fuck, rut, so badly, but Dean's plea that he needed a second made Sam freeze. Besides, he was more than aware that if Dean as much as twitched, Sam would lose it immediately.

"Yeah, me too," he pressed out, still struggling to breathe. "Wanna stay with you like this forever, not just a sec."

* * *

Somehow, Sam managed to stay still while Dean adjusted. His tongue flailed like a wild thing into Dean's mouth, not aimless but stroking him in just one more way. The plump, heavy weight of his sac against Dean's spread cheeks felt secure, grounding. Dean hitched his legs a little higher and raised his ass in invitation to Sam to move. From his desperate noises, Sam badly needed to grind those skinny hips. Dean needed that, too. Squished between them, his erection leaked a few more clear drops, itchy against the hairs. 

He needed to hold Sam's eyes while they did this. Dean brought both hands around to frame his brother's angular face between his palms and raked his hair back from his high forehead. "I love you... So much... Now fuck me!" 

* * *

Dean indicated that he was ready – no, he actually demanded that Sam fuck him! The urgency in his voice almost made Sam spill. He moved back from the kiss and nodded. Keeping his eyes locked with his brother's, Sam pulled out a little and slid into Dean's depth again. He thought he'd got used to the heat to the point where he wasn't in imminent danger of cumming, but the tightness of the sheath surrounding him together with Dean's needy moans was still hotter than anything he'd known before. Even with Nicole it hadn't been so intense – while Sam felt deep affection for the girl, this was Dean, his Dean!

After the few first tentative thrusts, Sam turned bolder. Dean wasn't in pain any longer, quite the opposite if Sam read him right. Regardless of how many times they'd already had sex that day, this wasn't going to last. Sam was covered with sweat from the physical action as well as from the effort of holding back, and the scent of his brother's sweat mixing with his own made a heavy aroma.

"Love you," Sam panted. "Love this. Not sure how long I can keep it up, though, please tell me you're close!"

* * *

Sam took him at his word. At first, he moved in tense hesitation with his eyebrows scrunched together in the middle, like he was scared of hurting Dean, but that possibility was past now. "More, Sam!" Dean urged, and his brother rammed into him again and again, harder each time. Having made up his mind, almost like a soldier resolutely, fatalistically accepting a mission, Dean couldn't believe how fucking amazing it felt, to have Sam inside him, that dick moving in and out in slippery thrusts into his core. So full, wedged full of Sam. Every so often, the stiff ridge of the head would catch against something Dean knew in a deeply-buried sort of way was his prostate, which sent shocks into his balls and his own dick. 

"Sam... Sam..." he moaned every time his brother bottomed out, "need something... Need..." Angling his hips up, Dean put his feet on the mattress and pushed up into those thrusts. Sam was on the verge of losing it, Dean could sense it. His whole lithe body was shaking, losing its rhythm as Sam tried to hold off. "Go deep, wanna cum with you..." Dean rasped. He was twisting and gyrating like some stripper, trying like hell to get the sensation again, but if he did, he was going to blow his load without even being touched. 

It hit, or more like rubbed, scratched the itch just right. The hard-velvet cylinder of Sam's cock against Dean's sweet spot had him grabbing at Sam's butt, scratching nail marks in it as Dean screeched in completion. His balls heaved till the cords hurt; that thing inside him went molten and swelled while Sam pushed fluids from it simply by pressing against it, over and over, to make him gush extra. Dean's juice spurted between them, five, six long jets and then more with little force. He held on to Sam so tight it was a wonder his brother could even move, but then, he had his own orgasm to chase. 

* * *

"Dean, Dean," Sam moaned every time he slid into his brother, withdrew and brought them closer together. Sometimes Dean stiffened and twitched, and Sam knew that he'd hit the nerve center that would take him to the edge. He tried to adjust the angle, but Dean was squirming to achieve the same, and they didn't quite get it right for some time. 

Sam's eyes were watering from the infinite love he felt together with the pleasure that coursed through him. He wished it would never end although he feared it would soon be over for him. Just when Sam thought he'd reached his limit, Dean raised his hips even further and finally got the friction he needed on his prostate. Suddenly, Dean's hands clawed at his butt, urging him to go deeper and faster, and Sam obliged.

Dean screeched and wetness erupted between their bodies as they shuddered and spasmed together. Dean held him tight as Sam howled his completion, filling his brother with so much cream that his balls were aching.

When he slowly came down again, he knew he was too heavy for Dean, but then his brother's thighs clamped around him again and Sam couldn't move. "Dean," he groaned, "lemme off, don't wanna aspho..." His brain stalled. "You need to breathe..."

* * *

A second after Dean's dick spit out the last dregs he could possibly produce, Sam came, hitting his peak with a yowl, sweat flying from the ends of his hair as he tossed his head back. Sam's dick thumped hard against his inner walls, then Dean felt the heat and liquid flooding deep into his ass. Like everything else they'd done in the last twenty minutes, Dean had worried about flashbacks. Nothing about Sam provoked them. His brother's scent surrounded him, his balls kissed down against his spread crack, the unique pattern of Sam's skin under his hands and rubbing all over his body told him this was safe, and this was love, real love, physical love to compliment their emotions. Dean doubted he'd ever been as in love with Sam. 

"No... No, don't go. Stay... please, I'm fine," Dean whispered. Sam's dead weight pressed down on him making it difficult to breathe, but he was in no danger and he wanted Sam in him and on him as long as possible. His body went limp, twitching, and his head lolled to the side. It took a great effort to open his eyes and look up again. "If I never get to do that again..." Or have to, but Sam couldn't know, "I'm glad we had this. You're an incredible lover, Sam." 

* * *

"You think so?" Sam murmured when Dean complimented him. Basking in the afterglow on top of Dean, he didn't want to move and that Dean asked him to stay made him feel even better – if that was possible.

"Then again, how can I not be, an incredible lover, I mean," he teased and licked at Dean's neck. "After all, I have the most awesome brother who taught me how to pleasure my lover."

* * *

Sam nuzzled into his neck, and Dean turned his head and did the same. His brother had been coated in sweat, there at the end. Some had dried or evaporated, leaving a salty coating which Dean applied his tongue to. But Sam had asked him a question, and Dean followed his resolve to answer.

"Yeah, I think so, but I also think you're a natural. Some people just are. I didn't really have to teach you: You've always known how to touch me, even if you weren't really thinking about it. Instinct, maybe. Or just, I dunno, knowing me." Dean blew out his breath and again caressed every inch of skin over Sam's arms, back, butt, and upper thighs that he could reach while they kissed and licked at each other, half-sedated in the mellow phase that followed the afterglow. About now, with women, Dean would be reaching for his clothes if not already gone. Instead, he wanted to laze around in bed with Sam for years, either talking, sleeping, or... making love. He supposed that's what they'd done, though the thought made his ears burn hotter than his usual ways of describing the act. There were logistical concerns, however. 

Inside him, Sam's dick was softening. Any moment, it would slip free, and with it a rush of semen. "Sam, we've already destroyed these sheets. And the air in here is practically green, not that I mind," he grinned, "but maybe we shouldn't make it worse." For all he knew, Ellema would have to burn her incredibly soft and no doubt incredibly expensive silk sheets or use her powers to remove the stains, if they extended to such things. "Pull out then roll off, and I'm gonna bolt for the shower." Sam was going to laugh his ass off at Dean waddling more bowlegged than ever with cum running down his legs, but it couldn't be helped. 

* * *

"I think it's the two of us together," Sam said after listening to Dean's impressions. "When I'm with you... I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it with Nicole and seeing her enjoying it was a turn-on, but it's different with you. Deeper. More intense. And it's, I dunno, somehow I seem to know what to do to make you scream," he grinned.

He nodded when Dean suggested he pull out. "Not that I want to, but you're right. Although I wouldn't mind being stuck with you forever... Hm, isn't that what happens to wolves? There was a feature on National Geographic that wolf dicks swell inside their mates and keep them locked together for a while."

* * *

Sam agreed it was time to separate, but didn't move. Since he too really didn't want to yet, Dean didn't boot him off. Sooner or later, they'd have to or his drying jizz would literally glue them together. "You had to more than 'enjoy it'. I always did, with her," Dean teased. "From what you told me about that night, you went at least two rounds. But yeah... You did make me scream, and I know how to do that for you, too." While he didn't voice it since would be impossible to act on once they left Ellema's, they were made for each other. Dean's gut, everything in him, knew that. 

Sam's reference to wolves provided an apt distraction. Good timing, too, or Dean might have gone all chick-flick about their past experiences together. "Wolf dicks, huh? That's a funny thing for the resident geek-boy to fixate on, kinda dirty. I think it's regular dogs, too. Uh, from what I hear. Anyway, you're big enough without a knot. And you're doing a good job keeping us locked, just as humans." If Sam's weight hadn't had him pressed flat, Dean might've shrugged. "Be glad we're not cats – they have barbs on their dicks. Ouch. But I s'pose you knew that." 

* * *

"Cats have barbs on their dicks? Ouch indeed!" Sam winced and echoed. "I didn't know that, and you're right, I wouldn't like it. I guess they don't masturbate," he snorted, then broke into giggles. "And while we're discussing silly stuff, that knot thing, do you think werewolves have knots, too? Or maybe that's not so silly, after all," he mused. "I mean, just wondering if there's lore on this... Do you think werewolves can procreate by having sex, not only by biting?"

* * *

Sam's helpless giggle jostled him a little. Dean's ribs pushed hard against Sam's to grab a breath. "I don't suppose cats play with themselves like a person would. Claws. And oral would be a problem for both the giver and receiver: there's sharp teeth, that sandpapery tongue, and of course the barbs. No wonder cats are such little bitches." Their conversation was going way over the top now, but werewolves, that linked in hunter lore so Dean considered it. He tried to keep Sam inside him, and ended up shoving his butt upward. The only way to hold them in place seemed to be by tightening his legs around Sam's hips. And remain relaxed. No clenching allowed with a soft dick.

"Werewolves... I suppose they must have... cubs. They mate for life unless one of a pair is killed, and they had to come from somewhere. Unlike vampires, the change doesn't make them sterile, as far as we know. They're not undead. I wonder if their babies are human or wolf." He doubted their dad would have any knowledge about this aspect of werewolf pack life. 

* * *

"Werewolf cubs," Sam repeated. "Kind of hard to imagine that monsters could have young. I hope we never run into a family. I'm not sure I could kill a cub or a nursing bitch."

He was definitely softening now, but speaking with Dean so openly was rare and Sam wanted to continue. "Dad thinks Ellema is evil and needs to be ganked. She's not human, but does that necessarily mean she should die? Maybe we're wrong about some other so-called monsters as well. What if there were vamps that took only as much blood as was necessary to survive while holding down day – okay night – jobs none of us could do?"

About to slip out of his brother's body, Sam continued, "I want to ask Bobby about that. There must be lore about supernatural beings doing good things. Maybe he even has something on breeding werewolves." He giggled again, then groaned as Dean moved and his dick slid out, followed by a deluge of cum.

Sobering, Sam rolled off his brother's body. "But any thought of how werewolves raise their kids will be gone along with the rest of our memory. Unless... How about I scribble that question in the margin of one of my books? 'How do werewolves breed?' What do you think?"

* * *

"Ugh!" Dean grimaced at the sticky mess leaking from his hole, he turned onto his side, leaning more to the front, to avoid a tremendous wet spot. He still didn't want to get up. "Write that and whatever other questions you can think of in your notebook. Like wolf dicks, and vegan vamps working graveyard shift and so on. Other species, too. Bobby – I dunno. He's a hunter through and through, although he'll usually listen to reason." The unspoken, 'unlike some people' hung in the air.

Dean's opinion on Ellema needed no assistance or adjustment. "We're not ganking her, not Ellema. I don't even care what category she fits in, she's not evil. I wasn't going to tell Dad about her, he just... Got it out of me. Well, you were there, you heard." He sighed. "Someday, I'll be stronger than that." 

* * *

Sam turned quiet. "Maybe I'd better not write anything down," he said softly, "or I may be tempted to write about us, too. Then we'd both probably think I'd lost my mind because we won't remember, and if Dad found out..." He shook his head. "Better not risk it."

He smiled wistfully. "It's okay, Dean. I'm not complaining about the memory thing. If I remembered this, I'd always want it again. And I love you all the more for making it happen."

* * *

"I don't see much choice," Dean answered, shaking his head. "Not now. If I had a choice, you know what it would be." He held his brother's eyes, and hoped Sam could see the answer there. "We need to be careful about not leaving potential triggers. If one of us were to remember but not the other, that would suck big time... We'd better ask Ellema about that, too. Just in case."

In spite of Dean's best attempts not to move, a thin film of fluid was leaking out of him and inching down the back of his thigh. If he waited much longer to wash, his semen-coated front was going to crack when he moved. And it itched. "Sorry, Sam, I gotta get cleaned up now. This stuff might make good body armor or something, but it's itchy." 

Slithering to his knees, then off the bed backwards like a toddler going down stairs, Dean made it to Ellema's bathroom before anything slick or sticky reached the floor. The shower beckoned and he made straight for it. They'd already showered, but he saw no better way to remove the congealed mess on his torso along with the trails down his legs. Double ugh. 

* * *

Sam felt mellow but also lightheaded and silly, so his response to Dean's announcement of taking a shower was a giggle. "Body armor? Do you mean because it's so crusty or because the smell would drive any monster away? As much as I love how we smell, I agree it gets kind of yucky pretty soon. I guess I should shower, too. Question is, should we go together? I don't think I could get it up again, so it would be for cleaning purposes, but being close to you, um, sometimes it does things for me." 

How was it possible that he still blushed over his body's reaction to his brother after all they'd shared? Sam would never understand it, but a part of him liked that Dean could make him flush – which annoyed him, but he'd never admit it out loud.

* * *

"You might as well shower with me," Dean called back to Sam over his shoulder. He hadn't really meant to just get up and leave in the middle of Sam still speaking to him, but he'd announced he was going to wash. "Some of my 'stuff' got on you, too. Actually, it might work better as a lure than anything else on a hunt. Monsters might like stench but people don't." 

Warm water blasted out of the multiple showerheads, and Dean stepped into the stall. "You of all people can't get it up? Give yourself ten minutes, boy!" He snorted in disbelief, then groaned as the water pounded down over him from three sides. "This shower is almost as good as sex – it should fix you right up," he raised his voice to be heard. 

* * *

"Well, your scent lures me in; does that mean I'm a monster?" The wide grin on Sam's face expressed his light heart. Being allowed to love Dean if only for a few days made him the happiest man – yes, he was that, a man, loved by another man – on the face of the planet.

Then he shut up abruptly as he entered the bathroom behind his brother. "Please tell me that this is a swimming pool," he nodded at the tub – had he ever seen anything that huge in a private room before? "And the shower..." Sam's eyes were still wide when he joined Dean under the hot spray. "Almost as good as sex, you say? If I hadn't seen this, I wouldn't believe it!"

He closed his eyes and turned his face to one of the nozzles and laughed when the water ran down his body. "This is... fantastic."

* * *

"You're no monster," Dean assured his brother, "and yeah, it's a tub and it's all real." Dean watched Sam take in the vastness of Ellema's private bathroom and it's various features. Still gawking, Sam stepped under the shower, stuck his face under the spray, and came out again sputtering and laughing. He slicked his drenched hair back, showing off the sharp facial bones. If Dean's heart could get any meltier, it did then. 

"Wanna know something else about that ginormous tub? You might just like this: it's got water jets built into the seats." He winked as Sam's eyes widened and plucked the shower head on a flexible hose off its clip. Brandishing it like a knife, but playfully, he offered, "This might work to give you a demo of what it feels like." 

* * *

"Might I like this? You've got to be kidding me! It's awesome!" Again, Sam laughed, and then his eyes widened even further when Dean pointed the flexible hose at him. "Hey!" he tried to protest, but the spray hit him before he could duck.

"Oh wait," Sam shrieked. He turned away from his brother and found another hose, which he directed at his brother. "Take that!"

* * *

"Yeah, thought you'd wann-" Dean caught a faceful of water when Sam retrieved his own showerhead off its hook and swung around with it. "Hhhyy ddmmmtp!" Dean grumbled in his best 'Dad' imitation. He spat out the warm water and pinched his nostrils. "Shoulda known you wouldn't stand still for it!" Flashing a grin, he aimed his own hose lower and sprayed Sam's junk. 

* * *

"You know, I always wanted one of these huge toy water guns," Sam began, wondering if he should point out that, of course, John would never have agreed to support such a 'stupid' childhood dream, even if it could be claimed to be somehow and very remotely related to weapons training. However, he didn't get any further when Dean directed the warm spray at Sam's dick. The until-then flaccid organ reacted immediately, making Sam almost drop his hose when all his blood fled southwards.

"That," he gasped, "feels nice..." He fumbled with the showerhead in his hand to return the favor to his brother and found that by turning the thing he could generate a jet rather than the spray, which he pointed at Dean's crotch. 

"I always liked showering with you," Sam grinned, "but I think we're reaching a whole new level of opportunities here."

* * *

"See, what did I tell you? Not even ten minutes, more like two!" Dean teased lightly when Sam started to get hard again under the warm, strategically-aimed running water. "Your powers of recovery are truly amazing, bro." 

Sam decided to try it out on him too, only the setting on the showerhead was turned to a more powerful jet. It felt good, but also like too much, and the strong current of the streams made his soft dick flop to the side and do a little dance that Dean snorted over. Ridiculous! Oversensitive from all their very recent sex, Dean brought his hands together in front of his groin to protect his genitals. Of course, with the nozzle still in his hand, his 'ammo' went everywhere, wetting down all four walls of the shower stall. 

"C'mere, you!" he laughed. Dean lunged forward and grabbed Sam in his arms. The lithe, slippery body all rubbing up against him amped up his own libido. Still play-fighting, Sam squirmed around and got him in the face again, and in the ribs with a sharp elbow. "Bitch!" Spitting out more of their potential shower, Dean turned Sam around to face the wall. Before his brother could wiggle away, he brought his hands down fast, using one to part the small tight cheeks. Getting the showerhead in close, Dean held the spray to the closed pink furl. 

* * *

Sam went from giggling over flopping Dean's dick around with his hose to surprise over being pinned against the shower wall in less than a second. He made a mental note to never again underestimate his brother's quick hunter's reflexes. His attempt to strike back was cut off when Dean spread his cheeks and aimed the hot water at Sam's hole. It felt...

"Gnuuhh!" Sam squirmed against the wall, but didn't try to escape. Dean's hand kept him open and exposed and the water stimulated his back entrance into twitching and clenching. Already, he was hard and needy again.

"Dean," he gasped under the assault on his nerve endings. "Please tell me that you can get it up again. I need you in me!"

* * *

Get it up again? Now that was a helluva question. Desire was there but when Dean glanced from Sam's jumpy little hole to his own dick, the sight confirmed what it felt like: it was awake and aware but could only twitch weakly a couple of times in response to Sam's near-begging. Dean groaned at the sensation of 'too soon', wishing he was still 15, too. He couldn't regret the night before but wow, he'd expended himself. "Little Dean's MIA at the moment. He wants what you want but..." 

He shrugged and spread his hands. "We can still have fun. I can lick your needy hole till you scream some more," he rasped, "or finger your sweet spot, and we can raid Ellema's naughty drawer. Bet she's got some good toys...?" Raising his eyebrows, Dean dared Sam to tell him what he'd found in there earlier. 

* * *

If he was disappointed that Dean needed a moment to recover, Sam was immediately distracted from the fact by his brother's suggestion. His mouth went dry as he stammered, "Um, yeah, there were... I dunno, a few vibrators probably and... some stuff I have no idea what they're for, like, ping-pong balls on a chain, but I'm not sure..."

Sam swallowed. "I trust you. Can you decide for me?"

* * *

"Anal beads," Dean nodded sagely. "Bet you'd love them. Or something that vibrates against your sweet spot. We'll get you all worked up, and maybe by then I'll be ready again, too." Knowing how hair-trigger sensitive Sam was, Dean wondered if there was any chance they'd find anything that could serve as a cock ring in Ellema's collection. 

"It's not easy, but see if you can wait," Dean suggested as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed them each a towel, dark blue and plush. They were dry and clean, which meant they weren't the ones he and Ellema used. None of the Winchesters had their own towels, much less a supply like she had to have. Dean tried not to compare. Instead he grinned and tossed one to his naked brother. "Catch!"

* * *

"Anal beads?" Sam repeated and frowned. "Beads as in necklace?" His brother obviously knew what they were for, but Sam had no clue. 

He caught the towel Dean threw him and his eyes widened. Had he ever used a towel that was as soft as this? Rubbing himself dry with it was more a caress than the scraping he was used to from the threadbare cloths they found in their cheap motel rooms. He ran it over his chest, which made his nipples stand up. The attempt to wipe the water droplets off his dick left a thick white smear on the soft fabric.

Dean's dick was still flaccid, but the look on his face as his eye followed the smudge on Sam's towel suggested it might not remain limp for long. "So, what's the story about anal beads?" Sam asked. 

* * *

"Damn, that's sexy," Dean breathed, unable to stop staring. At first, his perusal was only about seeing his little brother react to the fine cotton unlike anything they'd ever used. Unconsciously, Sam put on a show, wiping the dark towel up his chest where he stroked it over the perky buds a few times, then down again. Though it would totally defeat the purpose of drying off, Dean's mouth watered with the sudden urge to lick in the towel's wake, down the flat, subtlely-sculpted stomach, past the divot of his navel and the thin dark line of hairs down... Sam was leaking. Not just the usual clear slick but milky white, thick with musky pheromones. 

"What? Huh?" Dean blinked when Sam prompted him a second time. Belatedly, he remembered to dry himself off as well – he'd been dripping all over the floor, just water though. "Oh, right. No, it's not a necklace, it's a string. I've seen 'em in pornos and sex shops, never tried them, can't believe I'm admitting that. Anyway, you stuff in one bead at a time – I think you can guess where – till you're filled full then pull them out. 'Sposed to feel awesome, if you believe porn," he grinned. "Wanna try?"

* * *

"Yesss!" Sam hissed, almost before Dean had even finished the question. Then again, did his brother really have to ask? They only had this short grace period, and although they wouldn't remember any of this, Sam was determined to try everything he could. Being 'filled full' after Dean 'stuffed in' one bead at a time, the prospect of having not only his hole played with but also how the beads – or balls, he thought, which made him giggle – would feel bumping around inside him and against his sweet spot, as Dean called it, was enough for his dick to drool a string of thick fluid onto the floor.

However, as much he wanted Dean to insert the toy into his throbbing entrance, he remembered that they weren't their property. "Um, since they're Ellema's," Sam asked, blushing, "shouldn't we ask her first if it's okay to use them? I mean she said we should make ourselves at home, but..." He licked his lips, suddenly shy again. 

* * *

It took only half a second for Sam to process his suggestion, an interesting progression of expressions dancing across his face. A fresh dribble of pre-cum stretched from his slit all the way to the floor in one long drool. Dean wondered what had turned Sam on the most: a new experience in general, the physical need to be played with and get off, or Dean doing it to him. 

"You're considerate," he remarked when Sam reminded him they didn't own the toys or anything here. In a practiced move, Dean wrapped the towel around his waist. Beckoning, he sauntered back into the bedroom, hyper-aware of his brother right behind him, and in a much bigger hurry, "to think about getting permission before we shove any of her toys up your butt. Are you going to go ask, or am I? Considering what you're packing at the moment," he leered, "maybe we should just text. If she gets a look at that, I'll have to share, and I don't want to right now." 

What had started as ogling Sam's heavy purplish erection evolved into a possessive confession, unexpected to Dean. He was more than aware how hypocritical it was, but he couldn't help his feelings. Before Sam could answer, Dean drew him into his arms and kissed him hard, lips bruising and sucking at Sam's lower lip and tongue, pouring out his passion into it. His brother pressed against him, so hot and hard and wet. Finally, not a rush but tiny inflows of blood began to congregate in Dean's groin. "Get your ass on the bed," he moaned when they broke for breath. "Or in the air." 

* * *

Sam was about to agree that maybe they should text Ellema – although the suggestion was ridiculous – but Dean's announcement that he didn't want to share hit him hard and unexpectedly, with the same response as a well-aimed nudge against his prostate.

"I... unnnhh..." he stammered. He'd never thought of Dean as possessive before, but his brother more or less declaring Sam his property notched up his desire to a point Sam had until then considered impossible.

"I... need... want..." he moaned as he did his best to follow Dean's instructions. Ass on the bed or in the air? He could do that, although it took every single brain cell he had left to coordinate first his steps to the bed, and then lowering himself on it so that his dick rubbed against the mattress as he knelt before the bed and stretched his ass up as high as he could.

"Please," Sam whined. "Do... the beads. Something. Need it so bad..."

* * *

"I know how bad you need it," Dean agreed in a low voice. After some momentary fidgeting, Sam bent over the side of the bed. The effect of presenting his smooth backside and needy, twitching hole sparked Dean's blood like it was laced with lighter fluid and someone had struck a match. Struggling to rise, his half-hard dick seeped a single droplet of slick. His balls ached, still hanging loose, but Sam's were pulled up tight between his legs as if he'd spill the second he was touched. 

"We can't text her after all; I don't even have her number, but she'll forgive us," Dean declared. "Not leaving, not now. Not letting you out of my sight." He crossed the room, dropped to his knees and dug in the drawer of the nearest bedside table. Inside, there were about a half dozen phallic-shaped objects in different sizes and colors, more egg-shaped ones, and other things. She possessed some interesting tastes, or needs, Ellema did! Dean pulled out the string of beads. Opaque and made of silicon, ten of them, and Sam hadn't been exaggerating about their size. Then more lube, because he wasn't sure where the other tube had gone. At the bottom of the drawer were various thin ties and cords, maybe for bondage; Dean chose a soft leather ribbon less than a half-inch wide – something had to be done or this would be over before they started. 

Still on his knees with toys in hand which he then laid on the bed, Dean approached Sam from – of course – behind. "Sam..." he used his 'pay attention' voice. "I'm gonna fill you with these balls, then with what's in my balls. Gotta restrain your junk, though, or I can see you're gonna lose it right away." Before Sam could protest, Dean reached down between the long, slender legs, brushing Sam's balls. More heat flooded Dean's groin, just from touching his lover. "Trust me, Sammy. It's 'cuz I want us to cum together, wanna cum so deep inside you, show you how much I love you... Lift up a bit."

While Sam wrapped his brain around that, Dean looped the soft suede-leather around the base of his brother's sac. He didn't tighten it enough to do damage, but enough so those heavy, jizz-filled jewels would never be able to complete their upward crawl. Sam pushed his butt higher, allowing access to￼his dick. Already there was a damp spot the diameter of Dean's palm where the tip had been. Before his hands could start to shake, Dean looped the leather again, more tightly around the throbbing shaft in kind of a figure-eight arrangement. All the tiny veins stood out with the added pressure, fluttering violently.

He got it tied with a slip knot, and then Dean licked a long, broad stripe up the back of Sam's balls, the pink raised ridge of his taint, and his quivering entrance. Reaching for the lube, he coated two fingers, then pressed his index fingertip inside. "So hot in there! Just a little stretching, Sam." Dean did that as quickly as he could while being thorough. When he was sure Sam was prepped well enough, he grabbed the string of anal beads again. Already Sam was rocking his hips and rubbing his dick on the sheet. Dean pushed the first round bead against the opening to Sam's body. It went in easily, as if Sam had deliberately sucked it in, and Dean gasped at that revelation. "Nine to go," he announced. It would probably kill them both, but in the best way imaginable.

* * *

A guttural moan left Sam's mouth when Dean brushed his balls. Immediately, the glands began to pull upwards to spew, but they were gently caught in Dean's hand and prevented from doing so. They were so full and tender that not being allowed to empty them brought tears to Sam's eyes. Dean's voice asked Sam to trust him, though, as he tied something around Sam's sac, suggesting it might be some time until Sam would find relief. Another tie went around the base of Sam's erection, and this time he cried out as his already over-sensitized flesh swelled even further when the blood could flow in only one direction.

Sam's dick was throbbing and he felt as if the purple crown was about to burst. His foreskin has slid all the way down and the pull at it felt delicious, but it also made his need even more urgent. Given how swollen his dick was, Sam began to doubt that any seed could even make it out of his body as the inner tubings must be compressed shut...

Dean's finger slipped in his ass and began to stretch him. Clenching instinctively, he almost swooned when Dean went straight for his nerve center and Sam saw stars as his synapses were overloaded with pleasure. He screamed and writhed, begging Dean to stop and to continue at the same time: it was too much and yet not enough, not with his dick and balls bound tightly.

By the time Dean considered him open enough, Sam was sobbing with relief at the end of the torture, but he knew it wouldn't last long: already, the pressure against his throbbing hole indicated that the first bead was about to go in. It felt different from anything Sam had ever had inside him: larger than fingers and blunter than Dean's cock, the thing needed a lot of pressure until his tight sphincter gave rather suddenly and Sam gasped as it slipped behind the guardian muscle. It hurt, instead of the steady stretching, there had been a sharp widening followed by no diameter at all, and already with the first of the beads he felt filled, yet he couldn't wait for Dean to push the next one in.

"More, Dean, do it now. 'm ready!" he begged in a shaky voice when his brother didn't continue but apparently took a second to admire his handiwork. He clenched his butt muscles tight to show that he was indeed ready for more – and howled when the bead inside him shifted deeper, straight against his sweet spot, making him sweat and shudder.

"God, Dean! Now! Please, please, please!"

* * *

Restraining Sam's genitals had made him needier than ever. All the begging and screeching about 'hurry up' and 'now' tended to work to the opposite effect in Dean. Call it a big brother thing, but he rarely gave in quickly. For one thing, he got off on the pleading. Despite his own gruff and often sarcastic demeanor, he knew he'd be the one begging if Sam went down on him or rimmed him again, god forbid how crazed and out of control it made him. Also, he considered it his duty to teach Sam how to make it last. His long string of hook-ups, mainly the first year's, might've been grateful for someone to have suggested the same to him. 

Right at this moment, though, Dean decided he'd have mercy. The toys were new to them, and Ellema's touch had renewed Sam more than just rest and going without ever could. Having witnessed Sam's instant reaction of some degree of pain as the first ball breached him, Dean smeared more lubricant on the again closed aperture, but after that, he pressed in the second of the string, then the third and fourth. His brother was beside himself, moaning constantly, pumping his hips, his dick a shade of dark purple Dean had yet to see. For once, he wasn't dribbling pre-cum – it had to be torture to be dammed up like that. Good torture, and Dean was starting to wish for a tie of his own because his body was making its need to climax and spew his seed known, as well. Dean kept his towel on, lest he drip on the rug. 

"Y'alright, Sam? Tell me if you feel like you can't handle any more." Without waiting, Dean worked in another ball. This one was more stubborn. While Sam's muscles were not quite as tight as with the first, he was... getting full, inside. There had to be some bumping against his prostate. Not only that, but Sam was clearly seeking that particular friction, each roll of his pelvis followed by a stripper-like grind. Dean wondered how much was too much, and brought one hand around to feel Sam's lower belly. Nothing unusual, not yet. The hot length of Sam's bound dick bumped against his wrist. Dean's palm itched to grasp it, but he had a different job to finish. Ball number seven took the same effort as the previous. All that shifting around could have made some room. "Three more to go." 

* * *

"Nuuuuh! Mmmmmnnnn! Nnnnaah!" Sam was reduced to moaning and whining, unable to put his need into words any longer, but he knew that Dean got the message. He was so full that he could barely breathe and yet it wasn't enough. Sam wanted everything Dean was ready to give him, and more: for his entire life, Dean had taken care of Sam, provided what he needed, and Sam trusted him now.

"Dean, Dean," he whimpered as he thrust in vain against his brother's hand, despairing over the evil bindings that were firmly in place, and waiting impatiently for the next bead to be pushed inside him.

* * *

Hearing his brother, his Sam, calling out for him, Dean's name the only word he could manage, sent urgency to every receptor in Dean's body. "I got you, Sammy," he murmured. No words were needed – Sam conveyed 'Hurry the fuck up!' in every tense line of his body. Squirting more lube on to the dark-pink opening, Dean was struck by the obscene if highly erotic picture it made, slightly open in the center with the cord protruding. He blinked hard and pushed in the rest of the beads, one after the other. Sam must feel close to bursting, all that weight rubbing against his prostate with every shift. All Dean could think about was the massive amount of seminal fluid barred from escaping yet, and how it was going to explode into thick creamy cum all over when Dean released him. 

"All done, you did good... so good for me," he praised Sam with a shaky laugh. "You took all ten of them, I don't even know how." Snugging up right behind Sam, Dean rubbed his erection against his ass, one cheek then the other. "Ready for me to pull those beads out?" 

* * *

Sam felt so raw that he wanted to cry. It was only with Dean that he could drop his defenses, open up completely and allow himself to be vulnerable. The depth of his love hit him once again in all its force: without feeling safe in his brother's arms, he could never let himself experience the sex they had, the physical expression of their love.

When Dean told him 'I got you, Sammy,' Sam took a deep breath and nodded. He succeeded in relaxing enough so that Dean could feed the final beads into his body, yet remained taut enough to hold them in – just about: if Sam was ever letting anyone take him to his limits, it would be Dean, and he was close to reaching this point. However, he knew that Dean knew, and he trusted his brother to protect him from himself should it ever come to it.

Right now, it was only his brother's praise and encouragement that made him bite his lip and keep his hole tightened in order not to lose the beads. They felt huge in his body, and, too much...

"I know," Dean whispered and stroked Sam's hair.

Sam nodded again. "I'm... ready for you... but... would you release me first? Dunno if I can bear... waiting..."

* * *

"You can, Sammy... Wait just a little longer," Dean encouraged, and found he was stroking Sam's hair like he used to when he was a little boy and he got sick. Wrapping the end of the string around his finger, he slowly pulled, not sure what to expect. The first – or last – bead popped out easily, so he kept going. Sam hissed and wailed again. His legs shook with the strain of holding himself up while opening enough to give up his treasures. Feeling the desperation in something like a psychic wave, and Dean almost gave in but he needed something too: to be inside Sam when his brother came. "Almost got them all, you're doing awesome." 

The entire string soon fell free. Dean yanked off his towel and dropped it on the floor, and the beads on top of it. The force of his lust and love barreled into him, giving him added strength to lift Sam's gangling, flailing limbs up onto the bed and flip him over. The only thing he paused for was to coat his straining erection with a thin layer of lubricant. Lining himself up to Sam's open hole, Dean buried himself with a grunt, curling his upper body over Sam's. He slid a hand between them, although he couldn't stop the powerful thrusts his body demanded. "I'll release you, Sammy. Give me everything..." 

When the slip-knot came undone, a huge spurt of clear fluid followed, everything produced by Sam's balls and his prostate since Dean had tied him. "Oh, fuck," Dean slammed in again, "look at you, there's so much!" His salivary glands and his own balls burned with drool springing up. "Love you so much..." He couldn't speak anymore, could barely breathe. Sam's legs came up around him and Dean rocked into him over and over, cradling his brother-lover in his arms as he loved him with his body, the best way he knew. 

* * *

Sam had been close to what felt like being too much, but Dean's loving caresses had calmed him again. He was still shaking when Dean slowly pulled on the string that connected the beads inside Sam's body.

The sensation was incredible and unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Dean's fingers or his dick massaging Sam's prostate was one thing he loved. Another was the pressure of Dean's blunt cock head against his hole, which he'd only felt for the first time today, but it had immediately made it on the list of things Sam never wanted to miss out on again until the rest of their lives. 

But this... the thick beads were pressing against his sensitive entrance from the _inside!_ If not for the tight strings around his balls and the base of his dick, Sam would have lost it immediately! As it was, he could only gasp in ecstasy and disbelief. Just when he thought he was about to catch a quick breath, Dean pulled on the next bead, and, again, Sam was overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Out they came, one after another, and liquid fire was coursing through Sam's body. He wailed and hissed, his body shaking harder with every passing second. Then, suddenly, the last bead was gone and Sam felt empty and drained, his body yearned to be filled again; and just then Dean turned him on his back and pushed into him, burying himself to the hilt with a single firm thrust. 

Sam was already seeing stars, and when Dean promised to release him, Sam knew it was over. He didn't even get to ask himself how it was possible that he was coming the very second Dean untied him. His lower body was bucking and jerking madly as he shot all over himself, some spurts hitting Dean's chest and even his face, and still Sam needed his brother deeper inside him.

His climax lasted forever as he wrapped his legs around Dean's, drawing him closer, while his hands dug in Dean's ass cheeks so hard that his fingernails would probably leave half-moon shaped scars.

"Dean, oh Dean, I love you forever," Sam screeched. "Wanna feel you cum in me, fill me up, then stay in me forever!"

* * *

After that first gush of pent-up fluid, Sam was coming for real, jets of his cream shooting up between them, even splashing Dean's face. "Nng! NNNG! Yes!! Cum all over me," he whined while under him, Sam screeched his love. It wasn't just words, or sex noises – Sam revealed his heart somehow, with everything: vocalizations, the ecstasy in his face, the frantic way he clutched at Dean. The velvet vise of his hole spasmed so tight Dean could feel each flutter of the inner muscles work against his invasion, not to push him out but draw him in. 

His brother demanded he let it go, too. He'd thought he wasn't all that close yet, but suddenly, watching Sam's incredibly sexual, loving display and being the one to cause it as well as reap the benefits, Dean was _there_. In the backs of his thighs, his gluteal muscles, and in his groin predominantly, Dean let the gathering tension of orgasm rocket out of control and for once he didn't try to hold it back. "Oh fuck, Saaaammm... Sam!" He shoved his face into the side of Sam's neck and sucked a huge purple mark onto his soft skin while his lower body rolled and recoiled and jabbed and thrust. 

One second Dean was striving for orgasm; in the next, the sweet, electric jolt, then he was shooting the contents of his balls, just as promised. "I'm coming, right now, coming for you," Dean announced hoarsely, eyes wide and blinking, shoved in to the hilt and grinding. "Oh god oh god Sammy... so good!" His dick thudded with each new spurt. Inside his lover's tight channel, his own hot goo spread around him. "You feel it? Filling you just like you wanted. Full of my cock, my jizz, my love." That's what he wanted, for Sam to have a part of him. Symbolic, but also given in highest regard and deepest love. 

* * *

Sam's heart was giving out; at least that's what it felt like to have Dean buried deep inside him, milking the final droplets of pure love from his screaming balls. Then it was Dean's turn, and Sam pulled him close as Dean went wild in the throes of his peak, gushing, pumping him full of his seed and love. It wasn't only Sam's heart that was beating madly, the thumping of Dean's heart against Sam's chest told its own story of love and desire.

"Yes, yes," Sam stammered, "'M feeling it, you, your cock, your jizz, your love. And my cock, my jizz, my love. Dean," he clutched at his brother, "stay in me. Wanna be with you forever. I know we can't, but... can we at least sleep together? I'm kinda drained..."

* * *

Dean collapsed in a quivering, twitching heap. As he came down off the high of his release, Sam echoed his words, like a vow or maybe a prayer. If only they could have all the time they wanted. But, Dean was pretty sure even normal people in mundane lives rarely found something like he and his brother had, or if they did they also had time constraints. Pragmatic didn't do it right now, though. He wholeheartedly agreed with Sam's sentiment. 

When he could move at all, Dean lifted his head to kiss Sam's lips. "Sleep would be great, you wore me out. Maybe we should find our own room, though...?" Ellema leaving them to their own devices – ha, literally – had been beyond generous, but they couldn't and shouldn't keep her out of her room for longer. 

* * *

"Um, what did you call it a minute ago? Considerate? Do you think Ellema would mind more that we fall asleep in her bed than that we used her sex toys?" Sam smiled. "Besides, if we went to our room you'd slip out and I want to keep you inside me for as long as I can."

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean again and kissed his ear. "I'm sure she's fine with us having a nap here."

* * *

"Alright, alright; you win," Dean gave in. "She probably doesn't want to return to sticky, rank sheets anyway. And we need to disinfect her toy," he snorted. "I kinda like the idea of sleeping inside you. I'll try to stay..." 

At that moment, Dean yawned wide, turning his head away from Sam's face for a moment. When he finished, he licked a couple stray streaks of jizz from Sam's chin. There was plenty more of that lower down, between them. "We're gonna stick together. Like glue. But oh well." Wiggling around gingerly to get more comfortable but not disengage, Dean hoped he wasn't crushing his brother. "You like me in you... I like you under me, with your legs wrapped around me. But if I'm too heavy after a while, feel free to shove me off." 

His eyelids were drooping, sleep coming on fast. "Gonna conk out, Sam..." Dean kissed the salty skin of Sam's shoulder a couple times, and let sleep take him.

* * *

"You're not crushing me," Sam said after his sibling's breathing evened out. Dean twitched a couple of times, then he was still, curled around Sam with his softening dick still inside Sam's slippery hole. Eventually, it would slide out, but not yet. Smiling, Sam raised a hand and ran it through Dean's short soft hair. Having Dean sleeping on top of him felt like being under a warm, heavy blanket, and he told himself to stay awake and enjoy it as long as possible. However, the events of the day and the abundant sex they'd had took their toll, and Sam soon joined his brother in peaceful slumber.

* * *

The house had been quiet for some time when SHE decided to look in on HER guests. The picture before HER eyes made HER smile. The bed was a mess, the sheets soaked with sweat and semen – and probably some of HER juices as well. In the midst of it, Dean lay on top of Sam, covering his younger brother with his body. They were closely entwined, and HER heart ached for them because their cruel life would soon demand they separate and return to not being allowed to love each other.

Although their original plan had foreseen that the boys remained with HER for a few days, SHE changed HER mind: Sam and Dean were at their happiest in this very moment. Once they woke up, their serenity would be broken up by thoughts of their future without being allowed to show their love. SHE wouldn't let that happen. Sam and Dean would not remember the past days, but SHE'd make sure their time together would end on this summit of closeness and love.

Careful so as not to disturb the sleeping brothers, SHE sat on the bed and caressed their temples with HER fingertips, murmuring soothing words. Although SHE was taking their memories away, SHE infused thoughts of deep fondness, a love for each other that wasn't made unbearable by the burning desire they felt for each other. SHE soothed Sam's rage at Dean for stopping their physical relationship and softened Dean's resolve to not let Sam anywhere close to him, so that they both could find solace in hugs and comforting touches. With this person John – SHE balked at referring to the man as the boys' father – around, they'd need that.

The two were in a trance-like state when SHE watched them wash and pack their belongings. SHE suggested a place not too far away where they could set up camp and relax for a few days until John Winchester would draw them back into the darkness that clouded their life.

SHE was going to miss them. Regardless of how long HER life was going to be, SHE'd never forget the Winchesters. SHE vowed not to follow up on their lives although SHE wasn't sure if SHE could keep that promise. For now, it had to be enough, and there was another task waiting for HER: make sure they stayed away.

The last time SHE'd hunted was more than a century ago, and SHE missed the man SHE'd been with back then, Samuel Colt. SHE'd shared with him what SHE knew about the creatures he was after, and he'd reciprocated by teaching HER to hunt them down. They'd made a great team for a long time, but in the end, they'd decided to separate because neither of them could face him aging and dying and leaving HER behind alone.

Now it was time to pick up HER old skills and make sure that no Winchester would have a reason to go hunting in the Colorado Springs region again.

* * *

Sam woke up to darkness, but any fear he could develop was nipped in the bud when he heard Dean's light snoring. His eyes grew accustomed to the night after a few minutes and when they fell on his brother's face the sight made him blink: Dean was lying on his side, deeply asleep, with his mouth open and drooling a little. Sam thought it was adorable. He was tempted to lean over and kiss Dean's cheek, but they agreed to always limit their displays of affection so they wouldn't get caught when John was around. 

He turned on his back and watched the stars. Next to him, Dean rooted around for a new position, making snuffling noises before he quieted down again with a contented sigh. The familiarity of it made Sam smile. Not long ago, he'd been so utterly mad at his brother for ending their relationship and refusing to touch him, but during the past few days, they'd somehow made peace. Sam wasn't exactly sure how that had happened, but he assumed that being without their dad for a few days had played a major role. 

John had sent them on a 'survival' camping trip until he finished his current hunt, a party of rogue pixies, and Sam was aware that they'd pay dearly for their interpretation of the orders: that camping included drinking beer and eating gummy worms instead of collecting wood for a fire to boil muddy, germ-infested water and digging grubs from the soil for food. They had blankets and if it rained, the Impala wasn't far away. 

Oh yes, Dad would ground them for weeks with additional chores and PE, but he could never take these days away from him and Dean.

Sam yawned and rolled over and curled up against Dean, who, without ever waking up, hugged an arm around his younger brother. Sam barely noticed it as he fell asleep, but the wide, happy smile remained on his face as his breathing turned even.


End file.
